Rennervate
by karissaakawriter
Summary: The war is over, and those who remain are left to pick up the pieces and deal with scars magic can't heal. Death Eaters that haven't died in the battle are out for revenge on the trio that ended it all. Post DH
1. Voldemort's Gone

The war was over. Many had died fighting Voldemort, but many more would have died if not for their sacrifice. Harry was going up to the dormitories. Hermione and Ron walked silently through the many corridors, not all too sure where they were going, but taking solace in each other's company. They both had wounds, in their hearts and on their bodies that would take long to heal.

Hermione stopped short, catching Ron by surprise when he took a few more steps and saw that she wasn't beside him. He turned back to her, shocked by the distant look in her brown eyes.

"She's gone" she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

"Who's gone?" Ron asked, stepping closer to her.

She blinked and her eyes focused on him, as if she were coming back from somewhere else, "Oh… sorry Ron, I guess everything that's happened has made me a bit… out of it." She looked away from him and started to continue walking, but he put his arm out to stop her.

"Who's gone Hermione?"

She refused to meet his eyes, "Voldemort's gone Ron."

"You weren't talking about Voldemort Hermione." He stepped in front of her and gripped her shoulders, but she still refused to look at him.

"I…" she finally met his fierce gaze, her eyes brimming with tears "Alright, Bellatrix is gone. She's dead, your mother killed her, and I'm bloody happy she's dead."

Under normal circumstances, Ron would have been overjoyed to hear Hermione curse, but he could hear the stress in her voice and said gently, "Yes, she's gone. So is You-Kno… Voldemort and a hell of a lot of other bloody Death Eaters whom I won't be missing." Then he added in a tone of bitterness, "A lot of our people our dead too. Lupin, Tonks, Colin and… Fred. But that's not what you're talking about Hermione, is it?"

She stepped back quickly, out of his grasp, "I… I'm so sorry Ron… about Fred… you don't need to be bothered with what's troubling me. No one does. There is far too much going on for my… for my small issues. Really, I'm fine Ron." She turned away from him, staring at the ground; "You should… go be with your family Ronald. They need you I'm sure."

He stepped up to her and quickly wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened for a moment, but relaxed into him within moments.

"I'm fine right here. Tell me Hermione. I thought we were done playing these games with each other."

As soon as the last word came from his mouth, Hermione spun around and kissed him. Their first kiss had been passion, fire, and adrenaline fueled by the knowledge that they may not live so to do it again. Whereas this one was slow, deliberate, and with an undertone that Ron couldn't quite grasp. He responded eagerly, moving his hands down to her waist.

Her kiss became stronger and more demanding as her hands wrapped up in his ginger hair. Not to be outmatched, Ron started moving forward until he had her pressed up against the wall of the empty corridor and began moving his hands up and down her sides, reveling that he could finally touch her.

It was then that he realized what the undertone was: sadness, and pain.

Ron pulled away to see tears running down Hermione's cheeks, "Hermione?"

She stared deep into his bright blue eyes and pleaded, "Please Ron… please just help me forget."

He pulled back even more and wiped a tear away from her face with his thumb, "Forget what? Please Hermione, I need you to tell me. I can't… I can't do this alone. I need you to help me with… with everything. But I need to help you too."

She closed her eyes and sighed, and didn't open them as she whispered, "I didn't realize how what happened at Malfoy Manor would affect me. Ron I… when it was over, I got so caught up with planning to get into the vault at Gringotts and with everything that was happening and all that we needed to do that it just seemed like the whole ordeal didn't even faze me. But just now I got a chill, and for that moment it felt that Bellatrix was looming over me again, that I was going to die. I had to remind myself that she was dead, that she is never coming back…

She opened her eyes again, "It doesn't seem like it's all over does it? We still have so much to do, so many things to fix, so many people to heal. There are still Death Eaters out there that escaped. The Ministry is in shambles. And look at me. I'm going on and on like a mad woman about something that doesn't matter…" she pushed past him and started walking down the corridor at a brisk pace, and called over her shoulder, "You really should go be with your family Ron, stop fretting about me."

When she rounded the corner, Ron broke out of his daze and began to follow.

When screaming started to eco throughout the corridor, he broke into a run.

Around the corner, Hermione was on the floor and curled into a ball screaming like she had in Malfoy Manor.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, kneeling beside her, "Someone help! Hermione hold on, hold on I'll get help, just hold on. Everything is going to be fine."

Her screaming abruptly stopped, leaving her unconscious and pale on the floor, scaring Ron even more than when she had been screaming. At least when she screamed that meant she was alive.

Quickly, but as gently as he could to avoid injuring her further, Ron scooped her up in his arms and began jogging down the corridor. As he ran, his mind fell back to another time, not to terribly long ago but seemed like a lifetime, when he landed heavily on the beach at Shell Cottage next to Hermione who he had just pulled from the wreckage of a chandelier at Malfoy Manor. She had been unconscious then too, and looked as if death was very near to pulling her into its grasp. He had pulled her into his arms and had ran, just as he was now, to get help.

"Ron!" He heard someone shout; he turned wildly to see Neville, bruised and bloodied but obviously exulted from their victory, jogging towards him. His smile faded quickly into an expression of fear as he saw Hermione, lying limp and seemingly lifeless in his arms, "Oh no Ron. No she can't be… not after all of this…"

"She's not!" Ron snapped venomously, "She just… well I don't know, but she's not dead! Stop gaping and get help!"

As he said this, Professor McGonagall rounded the corner briskly, worry evident on her face, "What is all the yell… oh heavens, Ms. Granger. Is she…"

"SHE'S NOT DEAD!" Ron shouted, shaking with fury and fear, "BUT SHE MIGHT BE IF SOMEONE DOESN'T BLOODY HELP HER!"

Though his shouting didn't seem to faze her, McGonagall paled as she stepped closer and saw the state Hermione was in, "Follow me Mr. Weasley, the Hospital Wing is still mostly intact and not far from here and St. Mungo's Hospital staff are helping Madam Pomfrey heal the injured." She spun on her heel and marched down the hall with Ron and Neville following right behind, "She will be top priority I assure you. She did not live through all of that to die now."

The Hospital Wing's doors had been blasted off of their hinges, and the wall in the northwestern corner had crumbled away, but a large majority of the giant room was as it had always been with the exception that there were far more beds filled that usual.

"Lay her here Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said; gesturing to an empty bed in the corner, "I will go get Madame Pomfree."

Ron did as he was instructed and gently set Hermione on the hospital bed. She was deathly pale, and looking at her unconscious form made Ron realize how small she was. Their months on the run had taken their toll on her, making her thin and worn looking. The scar on her neck from Belatrix's knife stood out stark against her pale skin, and she had other various cuts and bruises as a result from the battle. She also had blood spatter on her robes, and Ron knew a large majority of it was not her own.

"What happened Mr. Weasley?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

Ron jumped, he hadn't realized that the matron and McGonagall had returned, "Uh, she was acting really strange, kept saying something about..." Ron stopped, deciding that Hermione might not appreciate it if he went blabbing about her torture at Malfoy Manor when she could barely bring herself to mention it; "the battle. And then she walked about the corner. Then I heard her screaming and when I got to her she was on the ground unconscious but screaming like… like she was being Crucioed or something."

Pomfrey stepped closer to Hermione and cast a few silent charms over her, "Well there is no physical damage of any sort…" she said quietly, "I believe that all that she is suffering is purely mental."

"No," Ron growled, "She's not mad, she perfectly fine…" his voice lost its severity, "She is fine right? She's Hermione, she can't be mad."

"No, no Mr. Weasley, she's not mad. It's just the aftereffects of war and trauma I'm afraid, it will take a long time for many of us to heal, but in the meantime…" she flicked her wand over Hermione once more and muttered, "Rennervate"

Ron let out a sigh of relief when Hermione's eyes opened again.

"You both should get some rest," Pomfrey said, "take care my dears; there will be a long road to recovery."


	2. Death Eater's Evil

Harry woke up with a start, expecting to be looking at the inside of the tent, to find that all that had happened had only been a dream. Instead, he found himself looking at the closed curtains of his four poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. He slowly raised his hand to his forehead, and became acutely aware that his scar felt like any other scar and no longer pained him.

He sat up and pushed open the curtains around his bed, and after squinting at the stunning light that poured in through the dormitory window, looked around the room.

Neville was fast asleep on his bed, the sword of Gryffindor lay carefully on his bedside table. Harry thought briefly about how Dumbledore had left the sword to him in his will, and decided that if it was in anyway within his power, Harry would see to it that Neville kept it, until another true Gryffindor called for it in a time of need.

He glanced over at what had been Ron's bed, but saw that it was vacant, as he had expected. He got up and grabbed his wand, appreciating the fact that it was whole once again, and made his way to where he knew he would find his friends.

In the Common Room, on the couch in front of a crackling fire, Harry recognized Hermione's brown hair, even bushier than normal as a result of the battle the day before. As he came to the front of the couch, he found his other friend sound asleep, with his head on her lap.

Hermione hadn't yet noticed Harry's arrival, and was staring strangely into the flames, as if she were in another place.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, jolting her out of her trance. She gave him a small smile. He gestured towards the portrait hole and mouthed "Walk with me?"

She nodded and, after gently moving Ron off of her so as not to wake him, followed him out of the Common Room.

When the fat lady's portrait had closed and they had nodded their responses to her thanks for saving the castle and killing "that bad, bad man", Harry spoke quietly "Hard to believe it's over isn't it?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, it is… we've been working for this since we were eleven haven't we? I always thought that when this finally came, it would be happy, joyous; I expected to be running up and down these halls in rapture... but instead it feels…"

"Hollow?" Harry offered.

"Yes," she said quietly. For a while the only sound was their footsteps, and then Hermione softly asked, "Harry, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he replied, kicking a small piece of rubble down the corridor, "Anything."

"When I was battling Bellatrix… you know, after your fake death and before your theatric reappearance?" she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and smirked slightly.

Harry chuckled, "Yes I saw that. You, Ginny, and Luna were doing brilliantly."

"Hardly," Hermione replied, her smirk changing into an expression he could not read, "The three of us together couldn't even make her break a sweat… she kept laughing at us, chiding us… well me mostly. She said things like 'Oh little Mudblood girl wants to play again does she? She didn't like the last game we played. Shall we try again? I was going easy on you last time Muddy, this time I'll-" Hermione choked back a sob, "Well never mind what else she said. Harry I- I wanted to kill her Harry, but I wanted to do much more than that. I kept imagining torturing her. I wanted to hear her scream, hear her beg for mercy. I wanted to stand over her and make her beg for death, and then Crucio her again... Harry I… I wanted to destroy her. To give her a life far worse than death. And when I saw her Killing Curse almost hit Ginny, I saw my opening.

"If Mrs. Weasley hadn't pushed me aside, I would have done it. I didn't think about the fact that if I had, Voldemort would have killed me in an instant, I just knew I was going to do it. Harry, does that make me any better than a Death Eater? That I wanted to do something like that to someone else… does that make me just as evil?"

She was openly weeping now, refusing to look at Harry. He drew his crying friend into his arms and said, "No Hermione no. That doesn't make you evil. Don't say things like that."

As her crying died down into an occasional little gasp, he pulled away from her and looked into her tearstained face, "I have used the Cruciatus curse before Hermione, twice." He said quietly.

"On who?" she asked, meeting his gaze in shock.

"Yesterday, I used it on one of the Carrows when he spit in McGonagall's face," he replied, "and in fifth year, in the Ministry of Magic after she killed Sirius, I followed Bellatrix and used it on her."

When he said Bellatrix's name, Harry saw a glint of malice and satisfaction in Hermione's eyes that frightened him slightly. She seemed horrified by whatever thought that had come into her mind and looked away from him once again.

"I wanted the same thing you wanted. To do to her what she had done to so many others. I think she should consider herself lucky that Mrs. Weasley killed her," Harry said, grinning slightly, "Because between dealing with you, me, and Ron, it would have been a hell of an existence."

Hermione chuckled through her tears, "Yes it would have been…" she seemed to compose herself slightly and looked at Harry seriously, in true Hermione fashion, "Harry Potter, if you ever scare me the way you did yesterday, you're going to wish Voldemort did you in."

Harry laughed and threw his arm around his friend's shoulder as they continued to walk down the corridor, "Don't worry Hermione. I don't plan on dying again anytime soon."


	3. Just Be

"Ron," Hermione said gently, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want to talk about it." He all but growled, clenching his fists. The realization that his brother was dead had finally hit him when he had seen the place Fred had died as the four of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, made their way through the wreckage of the castle down to the great hall.

"I'm sorry-"

Ron spun around to face her, his blue eyes blazing with anger. She met his gaze at first with a startled expression, but in moments her face turned cold and impassive.

Harry and Ginny watched the two for a moment in shock as they stared each other down, then Harry grabbed Ginny by the arm, muttering "See you guys down there" to his friends who had seemed to forget they were there, and pulled her around the corner. She meekly let herself be led until they were out of sight, and then forced Harry to stop.

"Come on Gin," Harry whispered, tugging on her arm gently, "You know how they get with their rows."

Ginny shook her head slightly and pulled out of his grasp, "Harry, did you see that?" she whispered back, worry evident in her voice, "I've seen Ron angry before, but not like that. He looked like he was going to hit her…"

"He would never do that," Harry hissed, a little harsher than he meant to, "Ron would never hit Hermione. You know that."

"I didn't say he was going to, I said he looked like he was going to. Harry… he looked violent… we need to wait here, just to make sure everything it all rig-"

"WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT 'I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT' HERMIONE?" Ron voice shouted.

After his voice ceased to ring through the hall, they could barely hear Hermione reply with no emotion, "I wasn't trying to get you to talk about it Ron, I just wanted to say that I was sorry." The hardness in her voice was almost worse than Ron's shout. Everyone was used to Ron yelling, but Hermione's voice had always become shrill when they had argued in the past, not the unfeeling tone she was using then.

Undaunted by the change in her voice, Ron continued to yell, "I DON'T NEED YOUR BLOODY SYMPATHY. JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE…" A small silence fell upon them again, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone spinning around on their heels and walking down the corridor.

"Wait, where are you going?" Ron demanded.

The footsteps stopped abruptly, "You wanted me to leave you alone didn't you?"

"Wait… Hermione… I'm sorry… I just-"

"There's no need to apologize. I understand."

"But-"

"Really Ronald, I completely understand... a lot has happened, I don't blame you for being angry. Please go down and be with your family… I'll meet up with you all later."

The footsteps continued heavily, unheeding to Ron's plaintive "Wait… Hermione…"

She rounded the corner where Harry and Ginny stood, both of whom were suddenly aware that they were standing quite obviously in view after just overhearing something that they probably shouldn't have. She gave them an almost imperceptible nod and walked down the corridor at a brisk pace, even the imposing sound of her footfalls on the marble floor gave the clear message that she would not take kindly to being followed.

It was only after the sound of her walking had faded away that Ron came barreling around the corner, looking quite confused and a little frantic. He didn't seem surprised to see Harry and Ginny still standing there and asked gruffly, "Which way did she go?"

Harry nodded in the direction Hermione had gone, and without another word Ron stalked off in pursuit, though he probably knew as well as they did that he probably wouldn't find her, and if he did he would probably find himself at the point of her wand as she conjured up some birds to force him away.

"They'll be fine," Harry muttered, more to himself than to Ginny, "We'll all be fine."

Ginny nodded and wrapped her arm around his waist, still hardly daring to believe that he was still alive as he in turn draped his arm over her shoulder. They slowly continued on their way, neither eager to be swarmed by the people they were sure to meet in the Great Hall and both enjoying the feel of being alive together.

"You'll tell me?" Ginny asked idly.

"Everything." Harry replied, reaching up with his free hand to straighten his glasses. He realized with a small satisfaction that through everything that has happened in the last year, his glasses had remained intact. He almost laughed. With everything that had broken, enemies, families, friends, his wand, his body, and even a part of his soul that had attached to him that first fateful night Voldemort had tried to kill him, and yet his glasses had made it through without a scratch.

"Funny how things work out." He said without humor.

"Hysterical," Ginny replied just as dryly, holding him tighter as they walked, "You aren't allowed to dump me again you know, you're stuck with me now."

"Until you dump me that is, right?" Harry asked, smirking.

"Of course," she replied, winking at him, her brown eyes sparkling, "Do you really think they'll be ok?"

"They're Hermione and Ron. I've lost track of how many times they have fought. They'll be alright."

"This is different though," she replied quietly, and for the first time Harry realized that he, Hermione, and Ron weren't the only ones who had been through hell and back, she had fought a war too, and lost a brother.

"Besides," she continued, stress evident in her voice, "They aren't fighting. They're just… broken. Everyone is. Hermione, Ron, you, my family… me… I thought you were dead… you have no idea how much that scared me. And I feel terribly guilty about the fact that you dying bothered me more than my own brother dying… I thought you were dead." Her eyes watered slightly, but no tears escaped, Ginny was not one for crying, and she had cried far too much for her liking the day before.

"I'm not dead." Harry told her softly, squeezing her shoulder gently, "And we are broken, but we'll get fixed. Before I knew who I was, a wizard I mean, I always heard in school that war did horrible things to people… I never realized how true it was. It's only been a day and we're all pretty messed up."

Ginny nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Then she chuckled slightly and said, "If you ever do something as stupid as you did yesterday again, I'll kill you Potter."

"What is with everyone threatening me? I thought with the whole 'killing Voldemort, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the leader of all evil' thing would at least slow down the death threats, but it's only been a day and I have gotten two threats against my life."

"Well if you started by stopping doing stupid things that would cut down the threats at least by half. Oh but I forgot, you can't go five seconds without doing something stupid and noble."

They stopped at the top of the Grand Staircase, looking down at the witches and wizards scurrying about trying to fix the damage that had been done the night before. The two took solace in those few moments in which no one saw "The Chosen One" and that they could just be.


	4. Lestrange Wands

The mob of reporters, ministry members, and others who just wanted to thank Harry had finally died down, for the most part. Without realizing how they got there, Harry and Ginny were sitting at the Gryffindor table, in the same spot they had always sat over the years. They chatted lazily, occasionally shooing away a witch or wizard wanting to get an interview with Harry, but mostly just watched the people around them, subconsciously taking note of those they saw alive and those they had yet to see and wondered if they would ever see them again.

"Horrible, isn't it?" came a dreamlike voice, Harry and Ginny jumped, they hadn't noticed Luna sit down across from them.

Harry nodded, "Yes, awful."

She gazed at them serenely, and her wand was at its rightful place behind her left ear, "Yes, I do suppose that's how war usually is," a distant smile played across her lips, "I am glad my friends are safe. It would have been quiet sad if any of you had died."

"We're glad you're safe too Luna," Ginny replied with a smile.

"That's nice." Luna replied absentmindedly, casting her silvery grey eyes to the entrance of the Great Hall, "Oh look, Ron is coming. It seems that he has had a run in with some Umgubular Slashkilters, how unfortunate."

They turned to look in the direction Luna was and saw Ron storming towards them; he clenched and unclenched his fists angrily as he walked.

Luna was the only one to speak when he sat down heavily at the table, "Hello Ron, I am glad that the Umgubular Slashkilters didn't do too much harm."

Ron mumbled his thanks, then turned to Ginny and Harry, "I don't suppose either of you have seen Hermione?"

"No, but I'm sure she'll come around Ron." Harry replied.

"You don't get it do you?" Ron hissed, drumming his fingers on the table, "I'm not worried about her being angry."

"Then what are you so bloody worried about her for Ron?" Ginny asked her voice angry and rising with every word, "If you haven't noticed, there is a lot more to be worried about, the castle is in pieces and so is our family. In fact, I don't even know what we're doing just sitting here." She slapped her hands onto the table and made to stand up.

"Wait Ginny," Harry said, putting his hand on hers, then he leaned forward and asked, "What's wrong?"

Concern replaced Ron's angry expression as he said, "She fainted yesterday, after the battle, not too long after you went up to Gryffindor Tower. She started screaming… like she did in Malfoy Manor…"

Harry's eyes widened, and Luna nodded gently in understanding, they remembered all too well how it had been to be locked the cellar to the sound of their friend's tortured screams.

"What happened in Malfoy Manor?" Ginny asked, settling back down into her seat.

Harry stared blankly down at the table and answered quietly, "Hermione was tortured… quite extensively… by Bellatrix. It was my fault, I used Voldemort's name even though it was taboo. They came and took us to Malfoy Manor. When Bellatrix saw that we had the sword of Gryffindor, she went crazy with worry. She took Hermione to… question her… and locked Ron and I in the cellar. That's where we found Luna."

"It was quite terrible," Luna added absently, "I've never heard of anyone enduring the Cruciatus curse that many times without going mad before, especially from Bellatrix, she has quite a knack for the curse."

Ginny visibly paled and looked like she was going to be sick, and Ron glared at Luna, but she didn't seem to notice as she continued on, "While I was there she hit me with it a few times on occasion. Quite a nasty incantation, but I do believe I was quite lucky in comparison to Hermione. Death Eaters are much more dangerous when they are frightened like Bellatrix was. I believe Blibbering Humdingers have something to do with it…"

A silence fell amongst them, and Luna, seeming suddenly quite bored, seemed to float away to go tell Dean that she was glad that the Wackspurts hadn't clouded his brain during the battle.

The three said nothing for a long time, all staring down at the table lost in thought, when a deep shout went out, "Avada Kedavra!"

Instinct kicked in as everyone in the room drew their wands and searched for the source of the noise.

"Confringo!" a familiar voice shouted. Harry looked to the front of the Great Hall, the night before a giant had smashed a gaping hole in the wall, and at that hole stood a witch with bushy brown hair and intently wielding Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, with her back to them.

She quickly jumped back to avoid another deadly jet of green light, and sent the spell "Petrificus Totalus!" through the hole at whoever she was dueling. Another green light came soaring at her way, forcing her to duck behind the Headmaster's chair, which burst into flames.

Her attacker, who Harry recognized as Rodolphus Lestrange, jumped into view, standing right in the hole so that he could make a quick escape, and continued his string of killing curses at Hermione.

She jumped out from behind the burning chair and shouted, "Expulso!" aiming not for Rodolphus but at the remainder of the wall that hung above him. The rubble fell profoundly upon Lestange, and as he disappeared under the debris, his wand flew up into the air towards Hermione. She caught it nimbly and promptly snapped it over her knee.

All of this happened in only moments, and in those moments the entire hall had seemed under an immobilizing spell, but as soon as Hermione tossed the broken remains of Rodolphus's wand aside in disgust, time was put back in motion. Everyone rushed towards Hermione with Ron, Ginny, and Harry in the lead.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" Ron asked as he reached her.

"Of course, he wasn't a very talented dueler, I don't know if he knew another spell but the killing curse. Aquamenti!" she pointed Bellatrix's wand at the still flaming chair and put it out with the spout of water that ensued from its tip, then she put the wand back in her robes with a look of deepest loathing, "I am getting a new wand. This one fights me every time I use it, though not as bad as it did when I was dueling Bellatrix…" she turned to Kingsley, who had just jogged up to them, "You may want to have people search the Forbidden Forest, I was on the outskirts of it when Lestrange attacked me. Some of the Death Eaters that escaped may be waiting in there."

Kingsley nodded quickly and began setting up a search team amongst those who were gathered there.

"Hermione, what in the hell were you doing near the Forbidden Forest?" Ron asked angrily.

Her eyebrows twitched slightly, "I just needed some time to myself Ronald, is that so hard to imagine?" Harry nearly sighed in relief that her voice had regained the bossy tone it usually had when reprimanding Ron, at least for now.


	5. Still Dots

Hermione idly twirled her new eleven and a quarter inch vine wood wand with a dragon heartstring core as she walked the corridors of Hogwarts with Ginny, working to repair the damages that had been done in the battle. Olivander had apperated to the castle that morning just before Hermione had battled Rodolphus Lestrange, and had heard her remark about needing a new wand. He had the perfect one ready for her within two hours.

"Just a small offer of thanks for what you have done for us," he had rasped as he had given it to her.

As her first spell to test her new wand, she had blown up Bellatrix's. It was a fit end to a wand that had done so many horrible things.

Hermione and Ginny had walked together in silence, occasionally muttering a charm that would send a brick back to its proper place, or to vanish a piece of rubble.

"Hermione?" Ginny started, unusually shy in her tone.

"Yes?" Hermione answered, flicking her wand nonchalantly and setting a statue upright again.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Ron… told us what happened yesterday…"

Hermione swished her wand at a crack in the wall with unnecessary gusto, anger flashed in her eyes and her face heated up in embarrassment, "It's nothing Ginny."

"It doesn't sound like nothing Hermione, and this morning… with Ron. You two scared the living hell out of me."

Hermione closed her eyes and gripped her wand tightly. She took a deep, shaky breath, and when she opened her eyes again, the anger and shame that had been there before was gone, all that was left was a dispassionate expression. She relaxed her grip on her wand, pointed it at a broken frame of a vacant painting, and said "Reparo" in a voice so cold that Ginny nearly shivered.

"Leave it alone Ginny," she warned, and then with a softer voice she asked, "How are you doing?"

Ginny looked away, "Let's just say we're both fine and leave it at that?"

Hermione nodded, "Good plan," she said, sliding her wand back into her robes, "why don't we go find the others?"

They both turned around simultaneously upon hearing a scuffling noise from behind them.

"Ron, why don't you go find your sister and Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked gently, his voice strained. Ron looked up, the whites of his eyes were now an irritated red from suppressed tears. He had found his family together repairing the grounds and the fact that Fred was no longer there screamed at them. George hadn't said a word, and just stared at the castle with an eerie, far-off look in his eyes. Ron wondered if he would ever come back, or if he, too, was lost in the battle.

He nodded and walked over to Harry, who was off to the side speaking in a low voice to Kingsley. Ron heard Harry mutter something about horcruxes, and figured Harry was finally speaking about what they had been doing the past year.

"Hey mate," Ron nudged his friend in the arm, "I need the map."

Harry paused for a moment, as if not quite understanding what Ron was asking of him, then he nodded and pulled the Marauder's map out of the Mokeskin pouch that still hung around his neck. Ron nodded his thanks and began walking to the castle, tapping the map with his wand and mumbling "I solemnly swear I am up to no good" as he walked.

The map came to life, as it always did when those words were spoken, and Ron scanned it. His heart wrenched as he saw the names Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Colin Creevey, and Nymphadora Tonks all right next to each other along with the fifty others that were being kept in the same place, waiting for their families to take them home for the last time. He stopped and stared at the names and one name in particular, in the mad hope that one of the dots would start to move. Had Ron not been there when Fred had lost his life, he would have thought that Fred was going to jump out from around a corner laughing hysterically, saying "Mate I cannot believe you fell for that!"

Then George would come out of his stupor and start laughing too, "Yeah we really had 'em goin'! It took quite the dedication on my part to keep my act up, bloody hell!"

"You did bloody fantastic George! That look you had going made even me think you were keel over any second." Fred would say, dramatically wiping a nonexistent tear from his face, "Oh my twin brother's dead, I don't want to go on anymore. Priceless that is."

"They really ate it up too, thought I went loony." George would reply, grinning from ear to ear while he would look at his astonished family.

"Excellently executed my good man." Fred would say as he clapped George on the back, "If we didn't already have such a promising joke career, I would say you should go into theater."

"Oh, now you've gone loony Fred. Did that fake death of yours mess up your head? More so than usual I mean? The theater is for prats, no way I'd show my face there."

"Well you are a prat George, if you had my dashing good looks you would be a shoe in." then the twins would have fallen down in the grass, laughing so hard that tears would have leaked from their eyes as their awestruck family would have taken them in.

But this would never happen. Fred Weasley was dead, and though a slight smile still graced his cold dead lips that remained there from his last few moments of life, he would never laugh again. He wouldn't blow things up or sneak people candies that would make them sick. That was over. He was dead.

Ron was gripped by a sudden fury when all of the names of the dead remained still, and just as he was about to rip the map to shreds just so that he wouldn't have to see Fred's name anymore, he stopped. The names Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley caught his eye. They were walking slowly down an empty corridor, empty with the exception of them and two other names that was moving slowly behind them, both darting from one side of the corridor to the next: Alecto Carrow and Thorfinn Rowle, Death Eaters who apparently had come through the battle alive and were seeking revenge.

"Shit, don't they ever fucking quit?" Ron growled and pulled his wand out of his robes, then, following the map, he ran as fast as he could. He forgot about all the people around him that he could have asked for help. All he thought of was to save his little sister and Hermione before they too became still dots on the Marauder's Map.


	6. Never Win

"You heard it too?" Hermione asked Ginny, her voice a barely audible whisper.

Ginny replied with a barely perceptible nod of her head, slowly reaching into her robes for her wand.

Hermione did the same and kept it trained down the hall where they had heard the noise.

"Could be someone on our side," Ginny whispered, then she turned around and put her back to Hermione's so that no one could come up from behind them unnoticed.

Shaking her head slightly, Hermione replied, "No. Someone is trying to stay hidden," her hands shook faintly.

"Do we attack?"

Hermione shook her head again, "They might be waiting for that. For us to get out of our defensive positions… look back and over my shoulder, do you see that suit of armor?"

Ginny nodded.

"Seems like a good place to hide doesn't it? I'm going to hit it with a Reductor Curse. That will force whoever it is into the open," she raised her wand, "Ready?"

Ginny spun around and jumped to her friend's side.

"Reducto!" they both shouted, simultaneously striking suits of armor on either side of the corridor.

"Protego!" a somewhat feminine voice exclaimed, casting a shield over herself and a man whom was already sending a killing curse their way.

Hermione and Ginny jumped apart to avoid the curse, and as she jumped, Hermione sent a silent Stunning spell at who she had recognized as Alecto Carrow. The Death Eater narrowly dodged the spell and cast a silent spell back at Hermione that she didn't recognize. She rolled out of the way of the bright violet light of the spell, and shouted "Incendio!" fire shot from the tip of her wand, and even though the Death Eater tried to dodge it, the flames took hold of her robes. In the Death Eater's panic to quench the flames, she didn't hear Hermione cast Incarcerous. Shining black ropes wrapped tightly around the Death Eater's body and she hit the ground with a profound grunt. Her wand clattered on the floor, out of her reach.

Before Alecto had hit the ground, Hermione turned her wand to Thorfinn Rowle, who was in a fierce duel with Ginny. Beads of sweat trickled down her friend's face, and it was obvious she was losing ground.

Hermione scrabbled over to Ginny's side, and just as she was about to raise her wand to join in the duel, a disarming charm that had missed Ginny hit Hermione square in the chest. Her wand flew from her hand and the spell sent her tumbling to the ground.

The momentary distraction of her friend being hit was enough for Rowle to take advantage of. He effortlessly struck Ginny with a stunning jinx, and she fell to the floor beside Hermione, unconscious.

Hermione made to dive for her wand, but the Death Eater saw her intent and quickly said,"Accio wand," and it flew off the ground and into his hands before she could get to it.

He towered over her and sneered, "You're lucky I just hit her with a stunning curse," he growled, gesturing to Ginny, "I would have killed her, but I wasn't quite sure which one of you was more important to Potter, the Blood-traitor, or the Mudblood. Crucio!"

The pain was crippling, and even more so because she wasn't expecting it. Hermione curled up into a ball on the floor and tried not to lose consciousness. She wasn't aware that she was screaming.

As quickly as it came, the pain was gone. Hermione felt herself being lifted off the ground and unceremoniously slammed into the wall. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the point of Rowle's wand. His face was mere inches from hers, and his pale blue eyes stared into hers with a look of deepest loathing and disgust.

"Now," he growled, "you are going to go to Potter, and you're going to tell him that if he doesn't give himself up, I'm going to torture his little Blood-traitor girlfriend until she doesn't even remember her own name."

Hermione said nothing, and couldn't help but cry out when he punched her stomach with as much force as he could muster.

"Do you understand Mudblood?" he growled, his voice dripping with menace.

Hermione took a shaky breath, and with as much strength as she could muster, she looked back into his eyes with cold malice, "You will never get Harry." She spat in his face and gave him an icy smile, "Never."

He roared with rage, pulled her back and slammed her body against the wall, causing her to bite her lip so hard that she tasted blood. He struck her face twice, all the while screaming "YOU DARE SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY MUDBLOOD! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT, YOU DISGUSTING FILTH!" He seemed to have forgotten for the moment that he was in a castle with hundreds of his enemies.

Hermione cried; she knew that she was going to die, and all that she could think about when he threw her to the ground was that at least she had lived to see Voldemort die.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione tensed, waiting for death to come, and when it didn't, she spun around and saw Thorfinn Rowle on the ground at her feet, his pale blue eyes stared up at her, seeing nothing.

Down the corridor, with his wand still raised in one hand and the Marauder's Map in the other, was Ron.

He dropped the map and ran to Hermione's side, "Hermione are you alright? You look bloody awful and… oh Merlin…" he had just seen Ginny, who was still lying unconscious a few feet away.

"No no no, I'm too late." He cried, crawling to his sister's side.

"Ron… no… stunning curse…" Hermione gasped, still trying to catch her breath.

He turned back to her, his eyes wild, "You mean she's… alive?"

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes against the pain, "Use… Rennervate…"

Ron nodded eagerly and pointed the wand at his sister's chest and muttering the spell. It took a moment to take effect, and then Ginny's eyes fluttered open.

"Bloody hell," she groaned, putting her hands to her temples, "getting stunned is a bitch…" abruptly she looked panicked and sat up, "Where's Hermione? Death Eaters…"

In moments she saw her friend, bruised, bloodied and still gasping for air, but alive, and sighed in relief.

"Go get help Ginny," Ron ordered fiercely, remembering his worry for Hermione now that he knew his sister was fine, "We'll wait here. Use the map, wouldn't want you stumbling across any of our other friends here," he gestured to Rowle's body and Alecto Carrow, who was still struggling against her binds and occasionally shouting out words like "Blood-traitors" and "Mudblood" and threats along with them that in her bound state she would not be able to fulfill.

Ginny nodded and got to her feet, still slightly unstable but otherwise in perfect health. She grabbed the map from where Ron had dropped it and ran off, shouting for help.


	7. Ultimate Sacrifice

"What did he want from you?" Harry asked grimly. Madam Pomfrey had just healed Hermione, and the four of them were walking down to the grounds together to meet the rest of the Weasley family so that they could all go back to the Burrow together. None wanted to go alone, for fear of what they might find there.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Rowle," Harry growled the Death Eater's name, "Ginny told me what happened up until she got stunned. What did he want from you? He wouldn't have just stunned Ginny, and he would have killed you right away unless he wanted something, what was it? What happened?" there was a sad look in Harry's eyes that said that he knew what the Death Eater had wanted, but that he was hoping that somehow there was a different explanation.

Hermione looked away, feigning interest at a portrait they were passing, she kept her voice light as she said, "He… uh… wanted me to go get you…"

"Hermione," Harry said sharply, a little louder than he meant to, the change in his voice forced Hermione to look over at him, then in a softer voice he said, "Please Hermione, I need to know exactly what happened."

She sighed and looked down, leaning against Ron slightly for support, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, "When he stunned Ginny, he said he stunned her because he wasn't sure who was most important to you… the Blood traitor or the Mudblood."

Ron growled slightly at the grotesque word, and pulled Hermione a little closer to him, but otherwise said nothing.

"He used the Cruciatus curse… only for a short time Ronald… and then threw me against the wall. He told me that I was to go to you and tell you that you were to go to him or…" she suddenly looked sick and reluctant to go on.

"Or what Hermione?" Ginny asked, understanding that it had something to do with her.

"Or… well he threatened to torture you until you couldn't remember your own name, is the way he put it."

Harry took this all in stoically, but Ginny noticed that his emerald eyes were slightly watery, and she wrapped her arm around his waist and muttered, "I'm fine Harry, we're all fine."

He nodded slightly, and they walked on for a few moments in silence before Ron said, "Wait… Hermione, Rowle was about to kill you when I got there. If he wanted you to bring a message to Harry, why was he about to kill you?"

Hermione bit her lip, "I may have… spit in his face."

They all came to an abrupt halt; Harry, Ron, and Ginny stared at her in disbelief. Ron pulled his arm away from her and furrowed his brow, "Why in the bloody hell would you do that Hermione?"

She regarded at him fiercely for a moment before looking straight ahead again and simply said, "I hoped that he would cause quite a racket and draw someone to us, which he did, incidentally."

"But you had to have known that he might kill you?"

"I was almost positive he would."

"And you did it anyway?"

"Obviously."

Ron made to open his mouth again, but Ginny beat him to it, her brown eyes were bright with anger that would rival Molly Weasley's, "You tried to fucking sacrifice yourself?"

"Well I preferred to think that someone would get to both of us in time, as Ron did. But it would have been better than Harry going to die, which you know he would have. Harry would have gone to trade places with you, then Rowle would have killed you, then killed him, and then anyone else he could have before he would be taken down. Better one life than that many."

"You could have gone!" Ginny exclaimed, "You could have acted like you were going to get Harry and you could have gotten help! This place is crawling with Aurors."

"And then what Ginny?" Hermione's voice became very shill and her nostrils flared, "They go to find you, and see that you're being held hostage? That Rowle has a wand to your throat and threatens to kill you unless Harry comes? It would have had the same ending. I've been the hostage Ginny, and unless you are lucky enough to have a House Elf drop a chandelier on your captor, you don't have much of a chance," tears were now falling freely from her eyes, "I was trying to give you a greater chance, and thank god Ron got there when he did because I don't have any desire to die, but I will if it means saving those I care about."

She seemed to try to say more, but all they caught was something along the lines of "I don't want to die," as she said it all through great heaving sobs. Ron, who a moment ago was red with anger, softened and wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder.

Ginny stood beside Harry, looking remorsefully at her friend, and after a few moments she went over to her and enveloped her friend in a comforting hug as well.

Harry looked after the three of them, Hermione still crying and the two Weasleys trying to comfort her. He, too, knew what it was like to make the ultimate sacrifice for those he loved, and hoped that it would be something neither Ginny, nor Ron, nor anyone else for that matter, would ever have to understand.

Hermione seemed to compose herself, and pulled away from Ron and Ginny, smiling weakly, "Come on, we've kept your family waiting long enough."

As soon as they arrived where the rest of the Weasley family was waiting for them, Mrs. Weasley enveloped her only daughter in a bone-crushing embrace, "I heard what happened. Thank god you're alright."

"Mom I'm fine!" Ginny protested weakly, "besides, I was unconscious for most of the time; Hermione took the real beating…"

At these words, Mrs. Weasley released her daughter and pulled Hermione into her arms, "Oh dear, I'm glad you're alright too. I hope you weren't hurt too badly?"

"Not at all," Hermione lied.

"Bullshit!... sorry mum," Ron said, "When I got there she had two broken ribs and a broken nose, lost a few teeth too, Madam Pomfrey had to use Skele-grow for those."

"Well Poppy did a splendid job," Mrs. Weasley said, releasing Hermione, "Now that you're all here I suppose we should go home then?" she glanced around, obviously doing a quick count of those present and said, "Well now that's not right, we're missing someone, where's Fr-" she stopped short, and tears appeared rapidly in her eyes. She sniffed loudly and muttered in a solemn voice, "Well let's go then… Ginny you'll side-along with Harry?"

Ginny nodded and grabbed Harry's arm.

"And Arthur you'll… you'll take George won't you? I… I don't think he's… well enough to apparate…" Mrs. Weasley said faintly.

Mr. Weasley nodded and walked over to his other son, who didn't seem to realize what was going on around them, and grabbed his arm.

They all spun around and dissapperated from the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry got one last fleeting look at the castle before he spun, thinking only of the Borrow. The familiar and unpleasant pressure and darkness that went along with it was with him, and he could feel the added pressure of Ginny's vice-like grip on his arm. As soon as it had appeared, the pressure was gone, and Harry opened his eyes to the welcome sight of the place he considered home.

"Something's not right," Ron snarled.

Harry looked over at him in shock, "What do you mean? It looks fine to me-"

"No," Ginny interrupted, not taking her eyes off her home, "He's right. Something's wrong."


	8. What They Did

"Vell, just standing 'ere isn't going to 'elp." Fleur huffed, drawing her wand and striding towards the house. Hermione and Harry followed suit, as they, like Fleur, did not see what the Weasleys saw wrong with the Burrow; her voice seemed to draw Bill out of his daze, and he was quickly at her side as well. By the time Fleur had gotten to the door, the rest of the Weasleys, minus George, were behind them with wands in hand.

With the flick of her wand, Fleur sent the door flying open. Dust flew up as the door slammed up against the wall and temporarily clouded the doorway, through which Fleur disappeared with Bill in tow.

"Fleur wait!" Hermione hissed, "there could be spells that attack anyone who enters."

"Zere is no spells," Fleur voice replied haughtily, "Zey are foolish, zere is no-sing wrong 'ere. Bill calm down!"

"I'm telling you, there's something wrong," Bill snapped.

Harry shrugged at Hermione, and together they crossed the threshold with their wands at the ready.

The Burrow's entryway looked the same to Harry as it always did: cluttered, but cozy. He looked to the wall, expecting to see the various family photos…

"_Reducto!_" Hermione jumped and spun around to see Harry pointing his wand at the wall with an angry fire in his green eyes.

"What are you doing Harry?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Look. At. What. They. Did." Harry growled through clenched teeth.

She followed his gaze to the wall, and gasped at what she saw there.

In an old photo of the Weasley family in Egypt, the photo was magically doctored to show, instead of the entire family smiling and pressing close together to be able to fit in the photo, a grisly sight. The images of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were crouched crying over the images of Bill, Mr. Weasley, Charley, Percy, Fred, and George, all of whom appeared dead, while the image of Ron was being tortured by an unrecognizable death eater and silently screaming in agony.

Ron came up behind them, "What is it?" he asked nervously.

The photo exploded before he got a chance to see it, this time by Hermione's wand, but he saw the other photos and paled considerably. He muttered something about needing fresh air and forced his way through his family and out of the door again.

Harry grabbed Hermione by the arm and started pulling her towards the stairs, "Come on," he said, "Let's go check everything else. Just in case there is anything worse…"

"Is it possible?" Hermione asked, wincing as she heard another small explosion and looking back to see the family taking in the horrible photos and destroying them.

"Haven't you learned yet that there is nothing that a Death Eater won't do?" Harry growled.

Hermione sighed and shook her head as they arrived on the landing of the second floor, "Percy's room first?"

He nodded, and with a silent spell he cast the door open and stepped through the doorway.

"You truly thought you could kill me, didn't you?" a cold voice hissed from a dark corner of the room; "Harry Potter, you are a fool. What will it take for you to learn that I cannot be defeated? That not even death can defeat me? That I, the Dark Lord, will always be victorious?"

Out of the shadows, a familiar figure stepped towards them. He wore a dark hooded cloak that contrasted with his pale white, nearly translucent, skin. His nose was nonexistent except for two slits, like the nose of a snake; his red, catlike eyes regarded them triumphantly; his lipless mouth seemed to smile maliciously. He raised his arm, and pointed the Elder wand – that Harry had just the day before re-buried with Dumbledore – not at Harry, but at Hermione, who stood right behind him.

"I have waited for you to drop your guard, Potter, and to get you and your precious blood traitors and mudblood alone. I am going to kill you, but first you will see every one of them beg for death, and receive it."

Harry gripped his wand tightly and began to move forward to duel his enemy once again, but Hermione pulled him back; she stepped in front of him and raised her own wand, and before Harry could do anything to stop her, Voldemort suddenly changed.

In his place, stood a woman with thick and shining black hair and heavily hooded eyes, smiling crookedly at Hermione, whose resolve seemed to weaken before the dark witch.

"It looks like high and mighty little Miss Mudblood doesn't have the guts to finish what she started now does she?" she grinned and raised her wand, the same wand Harry had witnessed Hermione blow to pieces, "You're going to pay Muddy."

Bellatrix Lestrange shouted "_Crucio!"_ at the same moment Hermione cried, "_Riddikulus!_" and when Hermione's spell struck her, her wand hit the floor, and her hair started growing at an astonishing rate, as well as turned the same bubble-gum pink that her late niece Tonks had favored. The glossy hair became like ropes, and wrapped around the dark witch's body and mouth. Soon, when it had covered every inch of her body, Bellatrix fell to the floor, a giant, pink mess of hair that strongly resembled a gigantic Pygmy Puff.

Hermione let out a shaky, but decisive laugh, and the Bogart rolled under the bed, hiding amongst the shadows.

"I was prepared for McGonagall telling me that I failed again," she breathed; Harry saw that her hands were shaking uncontrollably before she hastily shoved them in the pockets of her robes; "I thought your Bogart was a Dementor?"

"I thought so too," Harry replied, quite shaky himself, "apparently both of our Bogarts have changed. I suppose the Death Eaters left that one, and I would bet my vault at Gringots that they didn't just leave one of them. There's nothing better to leave in an enemy's house than their worst fears."

Hermione nodded, and gasped as if she was having trouble breathing.

"Hermione? Hermione are you ok?" she nodded slightly and gasped again. Harry stepped in front of her and, seeing that she was crying uncontrollably, pulled her into his arms.

"So… real… hate… crucio… Bogart," she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I know. I know," Harry patted her back and listened to her cries, trying to erase the image of Voldemort from his mind.


	9. Reaction

An audible sigh of relief passed among them. It was sad, seeing so many of the family portraits go, especially the ones with Fred, but seeing the horribly disturbing renditions of them all destroyed had been a relief; and the Death Eaters has missed the photo albums. They thought that there might be a few more Bogarts lurking about, but five had been gotten rid of.

It had been a long and hard day of sadness and anger, only Harry, Hermione, and Fleur and not taken a break from it; not out of lack of want, but they felt that they owed it to the Weasleys to see it through without stopping. Several times, Ron had stormed out of the house; both Hermione and Harry had caught sight of him kicking at a tree and blowing various things up with his wand, things that weren't deformed photos of his family. Mrs. Weasley often disappeared into her room - after it had been cleared out - with her husband on her heels; if one passed by the door, they could hear her quiet sobs and his voice in a low and comforting tone, occasionally choking on his own tears.

But it was all done now. The Burrow was a bit emptier than it's usually cluttered, but homey self; but it was clear of dark magic, at least for the most part.

Harry and Hermione slumped down on the worn-out, well-loved couch together, spent. Alone, the two of them had taken care of the Bogarts, and they were both pale and shaken from a day of seeing their worst fears brought back to life. They had been careful not to let a member of the family come across a Bogart, and had only told the Weasleys about the creatures after they had been sure they had gotten rid of most of them.

Ron took in the living room and his family with a long sweeping gaze. Hermione looked to him like she was going to be sick, and he wondered if her Bogart had changed, as he was sure that even failure - her previous Bogart - would not make her so deathly pale. He was glad that he had not come across a Bogart; he knew for a fact that it would no longer be a spider; though he still hated the bloody things, he had learned in the last year that there were far worse things to fear… like the death of a family member.

With that thought, he felt his face heat up in anger. His brother had died just two days ago. Fred was gone, and George seemed to be heading in that direction. The remaining twin had to be monitored by someone twenty-four seven; they were all worried that he would do something awful to himself; he hadn't said a word since the battle had ended: he just stared blankly, as if he was already dead. Ginny put on a strong face, as always, but she was quite, reserved, and clung to Harry like a lifeline when she thought no one else was looking. His mum was devastated; his dad was shattered; Percy walked around like a ghost: saying little and casting spells as if that was all he knew how to do - he blamed himself for Fred's death. Bill was plastered to Fleur's side all of the time, like she would float away if he was farther from her, and Charlie idly spun his wand like there was nothing else in the world.

Then there were the two adopted members of his family: Harry and Hermione. Harry was holding up better than Ron had expected he would; it was clear that he was in a constant struggle with guilt, but he also had an air about him that he hadn't before: the air of a man that has completed his mission. He had the title of The-Boy-Who-Lived tacked onto him for years, and the expectations that went along with him, and now he had destroyed Voldemort. Voldy was moldy, as Peeves had said.

Hermione was… different… she was Hermione but… quieter… tenser. Ron was nervous to be around her; she seemed like she was going to blow up at any moment: that her calm exterior would explode into a flaming ball of fury. Ron didn't want to be there to witness it.

Ron's face heated up even more, and he felt his ears scorch to the same color as his hair. Those damn Death Eaters had broken them, and it made him bloody furious. He ran his hands through his flaming-red hair and opened his mouth… only to snap it closed again and walk out of the house.

He kept walking, and as he moved he blew various rocks and sticks to pieces with his wand. He needed to deal the amount of damage that had been done to them, even if it was only to stones and twigs.

He came to a small pond and flopped down beside it, trying to control his infuriated breathing. They had been so close… so close to all of them making it through. They would be celebrating right now. They would be cheering and not caring about stupid little pictures that Death Eaters had messed up. They would be telling stories of their adventures that no longer needed to remain secret. They would be… they would be happy. But Fred had to go and die.

Something touched his shoulder, and he jumped, spinning the point of his wand to his attacker.

"It's me Ron," Hermione spoke softly, not taking her hand off of Ron's shoulder.

"Oh," he replied, tucking his wand back into his cloak, "Sorry."

"It's to be expected," she said quietly, he voice barely above a whisper as she sat down beside him.

"I don't want to talk about it Hermione," Ron mumbled, absent-mindedly pulling out a tuft of grass.

"Ron-"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Ron growled; his anger had not yet abated, he had to take it out on something, that's why he had come to be alone, it was her own damn fault for coming after him.

He saw a flash of hurt in her deep brown eyes; then nothing, the feeling in her eyes was gone, "I was just going to say that I wasn't coming out here to talk… I just wanted to be here for you…"

For a moment, Ron felt sorry for snapping at her, but how coldly she had said it fanned the flame of his anger by reminding him just how messed up the war had made everyone, "I don't need your bloody sympathy Hermione, can't you see that I came out here to be alone?"

There was hurt in her expression, but it was gone as quickly as it had come and faintly she replied, "I can leave if you want."

Ron stood up and pulled away from her as if she had bit him, "What the hell is wrong with you Hermione? Had I said that to you just days ago, you would be yelling your bloody head off at me!"

She jumped to her feet and opened her mouth to argue, and Ron's heart rose with hope for a moment… then the lid of the coffin slammed down on his hope when she snapped her jaw closed again. She then said quietly, "You have quite enough to deal with, without me yelling at you Ron."

He ran both hands through his hair and gripped it as if to pull it out, "See? That's just it! The real you wouldn't be this damn cold Hermione. Yell at me! Send a flock of birds at me! Something!"

"You - you think I'm cold?"

"No, the real you isn't, but you sure as hell have been acting like it. Does anything even bother you? Do you even fucking care? I would take your crying over this unfeeling… thing!" He shouted, half hoping that Hermione would just correct him: would just offer up a word he should have used in place of 'thing'; that would be the Hermione he knew.

"I… I…" her eyes watered pitifully as she tried to hold the tears back, "I'm sorry Ron," she closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and opened them again: free of tears.

Ron kicked at a stone in anger, and watched it plop into the pond. He imagined it sinking quickly to the bottom and resting there. In the winter, the water around it would freeze solid, but the stone would remain the same: completely unchanged by its surroundings.

He turned back to Hermione, there was a change in his blue eyes, "I think," he said quietly "I know how to get a reaction from you."

He stepped up to her, his face only inches from hers. His eyes never left hers, and he almost smiled when he saw her gaze turn into something real.

"I don't know why you're doing this," he told her, his lips mere centimeters from hers, "Why you're trying to pretend you're alright," Ron could feel her breath on his lips, and felt it quicken, "but I know you're not. Why don't you tell me? I'm curious about some things, you know."

"There's… nothing to say…" Hermione breathed.

"Oh really?" he drew closer, barely brushing his lips against hers before pulling a centimeter away again. He knew Hermione well enough to know what would get a rise out of her; he may not have kissed her before just a few days ago, but he knew her, "So you are just as unfeeling as you seem then?"

"I wouldn't say that," she whispered, her eyes watering once more.

"Well what would you say then?" he felt confident; worries about his family and his grief just melted away and were forgotten.

"I don't know…"

"Well that's not like you," he whispered, "not to know things. You know everything, as I remember,"

"Not everything," She replied. Hermione looked down, no longer able to meet his eyes.

"I highly doubt that," he answered; and with that, he closed the gap.

She reacted instantly: wrapping her arms around him and pulling him flush against her body. He put his hands around her waist and held her tight, banishing every bad thought and feeling. He could sense the undertone of pain again, like he had in their last hiss. He could practically see her pleading eyes as she said, "Please Ron… please just help me forget," but he banished that memory and the feeling. He didn't want to know just then what she wanted to forget. He didn't want to feel her pain, so he ignored it. He ignored the tears he felt on her face. Ron just kissed her.

He pushed her down slowly into the ground so her back was on the grass. Her bushy brown hair sprawled out around her head like a halo. Hermione gasped and pushed up into him as he broke away from her mouth and gently kissed her neck.

Ron was finally giving her what she wanted, he was helping her forget. All she wanted just then, was to forget everything that had happened to them… just… forget.


	10. Don't Care About Calming Down

Author's note: Thank you all so much for the comments, they mean a lot to me. Writing is my life, and though most of my writing is my own original work, I couldn't help but write my own Harry Potter fanfiction, especially after months of reading different Harry Potter fan fictions.

I have noticed over the months of, dare I say, obsessive fan fiction reading, I have found that something incredibly annoying continues to pop up in many a fanfic: horrible depiction of the characters.

For the most part, I read Hermione and Ron fan fictions: they are my favorite character pairing, when they are well done that is. There are so many that make me angry because of how they depict these two unique characters. So many people want to depict Ron as a lovesick man who lives only for Hermione, is incredibly sensitive in every aspect, and is quite pathetic. That is not Ronald Weasley: that's an annoying asshole in my point of view. Ron loves Hermione, would die for her, and does get jealous and insecure about his relationship with her, but if I read "I love you more than air Hermione, I would die without you" or anymore sickeningly romantic bullshit that he would never say come out of his mouth one more time, I'm going to freak out. Ron is passionate, has a bad temper at times, and is extremely loyal: he's not Edward Bloody Cullen, get your Twilight-type bullshit out of my Harry Potter, please and thank you.

My rant is almost over, don't you worry. Hermione is a strong, intelligent, and independent woman who additionally loves Ron. She is insecure at times, and greatly fears failure (and in my spin, she fears Bellatrix Lestrange because of the extreme torture she underwent by her hand… or wand, so to speak even more, but I feel that that is accurate, as no one can be tortured to that extent without having at least some emotional baggage about it), she is not so dependent on Ron that when he is away from her for five seconds she has an emotional breakdown. Sure, she was incredibly upset when Ron left them in the seventh book and was pissed at him when he returned, but after she forgave him: she forgave him. That isn't the type of thing that would haunt her for months afterwards, she's smarter than that.

I know I'm not perfect, and I might not depict them to a T, but I do my best to write something unique, but true to the story (it's ok to come up with a different story line or radically change it, I have seen a few fan fictions that do it beautifully, it just needs to be done right) and the characters, as I believe that's my job when I am a fan fiction writer. If you want a character that is a lovesick, dependent moron, go ahead and write one up (but please, don't try to publish it, one Stephanie Meyer is enough), but get your grubby hands off of Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and every other Harry Potter character, they deserve more respect than that.

Okay, my rant is over. Thank you all again for your reviews, I love to read them and feel all the more connected to my readers through the reviews, and they help me greatly with my writing, so keep at it. J.K. Rowling is a genius and I love everything about her writing; I could only hope to be half as good at writing as she (I needed to add that in). Here is what you've been wanting to read but instead had to read my babbling, I thank you for your patience, and here you go:

X

X

"It can't be stupid," George grumbled.

Everyone turned to him, wide-eyed. It was the first thing he had said since Fred had died; it had been nine days. They had all sat down at the kitchen table and began talking about the thing they had avoided speaking of: Fred's funeral.

"W-what did you say, son?" Mr. Weasley asked, thunderstruck.

After taking a deep breath, George turned his brown eyes up to look at his family, and for the first time in days, they were clear and coherent, "I said that his funeral can't be stupid, not like what you're all talking about doing. Flowers? A service? Mourners? Bloody hell, you all know that that wasn't what Fred was about. He'd be throwing dung-bombs down at us if he saw… or up at us, or wherever the bloody wanker ended up," the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips a he said this, "Like I said, it can't be stupid."

Everyone sat in stunned silence, staring at George as if he had risen from the dead, and indeed he had in a way.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley spoke, her brilliant brown eyes were wet from tears, "O-okay Georgie, it won't be stupid. What do you think we should do?"

George leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought; "Well… fireworks… yes… could we…. Brilliant… last invention... we haven't tested it yet… could we…. When better to test it… lots of fireworks… in the punchbowl!" George let out a hearty laugh, and his eyes twinkled as he took in his family, waiting for them to get the joke… the joke that had half been said by him, and the other half had been said in his head by Fred.

Not willing to let her son go back into the eerie silence he had been in, Mrs. Weasley chuckled, "Very good George, how about we let you handle it? We'll just handle the… unpleasant things," she didn't want to remind George that the brother that he had been talking to was dead; she didn't want to lose him again, "Won't we?" she looked expectantly at everyone at the table, who all nodded uncomfortably.

George's grin widened, "Wow, didn't think you'd go for that mum," a silence hung in the air, and everyone there could almost hear Fred speak; George obviously did hear him, because he laughed again and went up to his room to start preparing for something that he no longer comprehended as his twin's funeral.

"Why didn't you set him straight mum?" Ron asked furiously.

"I haven't heard him laugh in days Ron," Molly replied quietly.

Ron stood up abruptly, "And how much do you think he's going to be laughing when he realizes that Fred is dead? When he gets that he's been planning for his bloody funeral! He's going mental mum, and pretending with him that Fred is still alive is going to make him worse!"

When his mother wouldn't meet his eyes, he growled and kicked his chair into the wall, "Why does every bloody person want to act like nothing is wrong?"

Mr. Weasley went to stand, but Hermione beat him to it, "Ron," she said sternly, reaching for his arm, "you need to calm down."

"NO!" He shouted, "I DON'T NEED TO BLOODY CALM DOWN! YOU NEED TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING CALM!"

Bill wrapped his arm tighter around Fleur, Ginny gripped Harry's hand, Percy was suddenly distracted in magically cleaning the fireplace, and Charlie continued to spin his wand, but no one said a word.

"You don't need to shout Ronal " Hermione began.

"I'LL BLOODY SHOUT IF I WANT TO!" Ron bellowed; his face was a brilliant red. He knew he wasn't being reasonable, and he didn't care, "JUST BECAUSE YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING HERMIONE, DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T!"

Hermione stepped back apace as if she'd been struck; then, with a look of angry resolve in her face, she lifted her chin and displayed the scar upon her neck, the one left by Bellatrix's knife, "Don't care do I?" her voice was low and dangerous, "Why don't you tell everyone here how I was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange: over and over again, and yet I still wouldn't tell her the truth, and then tell me how I don't care. How about you tell them that I wished I would die while under the Cruciatus curse, but did all I could to stay alive because I knew it would delay Voldemort, and give you and Harry a better chance to escape; then tell me how I don't care," her voice raised slightly with every word and became shrill as she tried not to cry, "How about you tell them how I was willing to die when Rowle attacked Ginny and I, just to give Ginny a chance; and THEN TELL ME HOW I DON'T CARE!" She gasped, her eyes wide, and clutched at her chest.

"Hermione…" Ron began, reaching for her.

She drew away from his touch, and gasped again, and again, and then again. She shook from head to toe and continued to wheeze as if she couldn't breathe. Hermione stumbled backwards and hit her back against the wall, which she slowly slid down until she was sitting on the ground, still gasping.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, jumping from his chair to her side in a single bound, "Hermione what's wrong?"

She stared up at him with frightened eyes for just a moment before she slumped to the ground and was still.

X

X

Author's Note: I'm not actually an angsty writer, but these characters have been through a lot of shit, and war does things to people… it would be stupid if it all ended and they were all hunky-dory right away.


	11. Shattered Glass

Ginny leaned against Harry's shoulder, occasionally closing her eyes and wishing everything would stop; the world seemed to be spinning out of control. Wasn't it supposed to be all right now that Voldemort dead? It seemed that no world could be right without Fred in it.

"I told you I'm fine Ronald," Hermione said sternly, "It was just a panic-attack, it's not that rare."

"It's rare for you Hermione," Ron replied, drumming his fingers irritably on the floor, "you don't panic, and you don't randomly collapse. I'm telling you, you need to see a Healer."

The four of them were sitting cross-legged on the floor of Ron's room; they had been talking well into the night, and again Ron brought up Hermione's earlier episode.

"I don't need you to tell me what I need to do Ron," she replied in true Hermione-fashion: with arms crossed and voice bossy, "I just need to learn to control myself better is all. It's incredibly embarrassing enough as it is that it happened in front of everyone, do you honestly need to keep bringing it up?"

"Needs to learn to control herself is all…" Ron grumbled, "Do you hear this rubbish Harry?"

Harry rose his hands, "Don't bring me into this mate, I know better than to argue with Hermione. Just because you haven't learned in the last seven years that having a row with her can never end well, doesn't mean the rest of us are just as mental."

Hermione gestured wildly towards Harry, "You see Ron? Harry gets it."

Ron grumbled something unintelligible and laid back on the floor, staring angrily at the ceiling.

Ginny snapped her eyes open and stared at Hermione with a strange look on her face, as if something had ceased to make sense to her about her friend.

Hermione lowered her hand slowly as she caught Ginny's gaze, "Is something wrong Ginny?"

"Would you mind if I asked you something Hermione?"

Narrowing her eyes ever so slightly, she replied, "What is it?"

Ginny sat up straight, "When you were… when you all were at Malfoy Manor… did you… did you really want to die when… well when it was happening?"

Hermione relaxed, as if she had been expecting a much worse question, "Yes, I did. That's how the Cruciatus Curse feels: you want anything that will help you escape the pain. That's why prolonged exposure to the curse can lead to insanity," she spoke as if she was back in school and simply answering a question as a student, not as someone who had experienced it.

Ron tensed as he lay on the floor, and his eyes stared fiercely at the ceiling as if something insulting was written in the rafters.

"But surely you wouldn't rather die?" Ginny asked, her voice hushed.

Hermione opened her mouth again, but before she could speak, Harry said, "You would," his voice was quiet, distant, "Voldemort used it on me in Little Hangleton graveyard. It felt like my bones were on fire, like I was going to explode, like my organs were being ripped from my body…" He met Hermione's eyes, realizing for the first time the extent of what had happened to his friend… because of him, "And… I only endured it twice… for very short periods of time… Hermione I'm… I'm so sorry."

She shrugged and waved her hand dismissively, though Ginny noticed her pale considerably, "Don't blame yourself Harry, besides, I made it through didn't I? Worse things have happened that we should be considering more than whether or not I was in pain. I'm sorry for bringing it up earlier, it just… I don't know… came out."

"You all keep telling me not to blame myself," Harry growled, "but I will not hear it for what happened at Malfoy Manor. I said Voldemort's name. It was taboo, and I said it. It's my fault that you went through what you went through… I'm so sorry."

"Shut up Harry," Hermione hissed through clenched teeth, "So, supposing that you never said it, where would we be right now? Maybe still in that tent, with no idea where to go or what to do. We wouldn't have found out where the next horcrux was, we wouldn't have had Griphook to get us into Gringotts, we wouldn't have been able to save Luna, Olivander, and Dean. More people would have died. My torture was a… a necessary means to an end."

"This isn't chess Hermione," Ron abruptly sat up, "You don't sacrifice one of your pieces to win the game, especially one of your best ones. If we did that, we would be just like the Death Eaters."

"Well things happen that way sometimes," Hermione snapped and got to her feet, trembling and looking ghostly pale, "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. I am quite tired probably from being lectured and interrogated for a majority of the day and night. Goodnight."

She spun on her heel, strode across the room, opened the door rather harshly, and disappeared into the dark hall.

After a few moments of sitting in silence and refusing to meet each other's eyes, Ginny stretched and yawned, "Well, I suppose I should be getting to bed too," she gave Harry a quick kiss, and went to her room.

"Hermione?" she asked cautiously as she stepped into the room, her friend was laying on her bed with her back to Ginny.

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry for… bringing it up. I was just curious, from what you said earlier today…" she made her way over to her own bed, and sat on the edge of it.

Hermione sighed quietly and turned towards Ginny, "It's fine, I understand that you're curious, it's just that… when I think about it… well it almost feels like it's happening again. Especially the day the battle ended, when I collapsed in the hallway…"

She shook her head clear of the memory, "I don't know why everyone wants to fuss over me. There are… other things to worry about."

"Like Fred being dead?" Ginny snapped, "Well, like you say about what happened about Malfoy Manor, it's the past isn't it? If it's already happened, then we shouldn't worry about it right?"

"That's different…"

"How exactly is it different Hermione? You were bloody tortured, and we're supposed to forget it even happened? Luna said that she has never heard of someone lasting that long under the Cruciatus Curse without going mad, especially under Bellatrix's wand. Don't you think we have a right to be worried?"

Hermione sat up, her eyes flashing dangerously; "You think I might be insane?" she hissed.

"No, Hermione I just-"

In the span of a moment, Hermione dashed from her sitting position on the bed to the window with her wand drawn.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, getting to her feet and reaching for her own wand.

"Didn't you hear that?" Hermione asked, staring intently out the window.

"Hear wha-"

The glass shattered in a violent explosion that briefly engulfed them in a harsh light.


	12. Visions and Reason

"I didn't die when everyone thought I was dead the first time, why should this time be any different?" Harry was staring at the point of Voldemort's wand; he was on his knees, wandless, defenseless, and uncaring. He gripped Ginny's cold dead hand, almost thankful she was finally dead; Voldemort had tortured her to madness right in front of Harry before he had finally finished her off, her dying was an easier pain than seeing her become someone else: not Ginny.

Hermione was staring at him with blank eyes; she had also been tortured to madness, but according to Voldemort, a mudblood didn't deserve the release of death, but instead deserved to remain insane for the rest of her days, and remain a toy for Death Eaters that sought to use her. Occasionally, she glanced over at Ron's still remains, and a glimmer of pain and recognition appeared in her eyes, but was gone just as quickly as it came: replaced once again by the blank and incomprehensive stare.

They had fallen upon the Burrow like a storm, and had mercilessly killed every Weasley. They had all fought bravely, but it wasn't enough: there were too many Death Eaters.

"You are going to die, Harry Potter," hissed Voldemort, "and this time, you will remain so."

Harry stared defiantly up into the pair of red eyes, "You never did understand, did you Tom? Dumbledore had it right all along, there is a worst fate than death."

"Nonsense," Voldemort growled, poising his wand for the kill.

"Yes, you've given me that worse fate. I welcome death Tom, the one thing you've always feared."

"Avada Kedavra!"

BOOM!

Harry shot up from bed, drawing his wand by pure instinct, and saw Ron do the same out of the corner of his eye.

They had fallen to sleep without a word as soon as Ginny had left the room. It had only been about fifteen minutes, because of his eerily vivid dream, it felt to Harry that it had been hours; he wasn't sure if his nightmare had ended, or just begun.

Harry stumbled over to the window and stared out, blinking away drowsiness and glad that he had forgotten to remove his glasses before he had fallen asleep.

In the backyard of the Burrow, Molly, Arthur, and Percy Weasley were battling seven people in dark cloaks: Death Eaters.

The Ron and Harry tore away from the window and slammed through the door. They ran down the stairs with such speed that they were half-falling, just fighting to get out into battle; to get the enemies away from their home, away from their family.

They launched themselves through the open back door within moment of their feet hitting the first floor. Neither of them took notice that Ginny's door remained closed, and that it was strangely quiet inside, only that there were Death Eaters to fight, to kill.

Incantations flew through the air and hit each other in a shower of sparks. Voices screamed curses and green jets of light erupted from the ends of wands; nearly everyone was aiming to kill.

Harry hit a Death Eater, who was battling Charlie, with a leg-locker curse and promptly knocked him to the ground, "WHERE IS HE?" he screamed at the Death Eater and he shook him.

The Dark Wizard's hazel eyes stared up at him in fear, "Who? Where is who?"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry roared, shaking with fury, "WHERE IS VOLDEMORT?" he was sure that Voldemort was alive once more, that he had sent Harry a vision of what he was planning to do. Harry was going to kill him again before that happened. He would kill him again and again before he let Voldemort touch another innocent person because of him, he could take no more guilt.

The man's eyes brightened with vicious mirth, "Harry Potter's gone bloody mental! You killed him a week ago you mad man. We are here to kill you all for it! The Dark Lord will be avenged!"

A wave of slight relief surged through Harry, and, after stunning the Death Eater, joined Ron in battling another, more formidable, opponent. Voldemort was still dead, it was a dream, not a vision. They could all take a few Death Eaters, though Harry felt his heart stop for just a moment when a killing curse missed Mrs. Weasley by inches. It only then occurred to him that he didn't see Hermione or Ginny anywhere.

X

X

Hermione opened her eyes slowly and groaned. The explosion had slammed her into the far wall, she thought herself lucky that it hadn't done worse.

Out of a cloud of still hovering dust, Hermione heard Ginny cough, and rasp, "Her-mione, are you- are you, o-kay?"

Hermione nodded in response, then felt foolish for doing so considering it was so dusty that she wouldn't have been able to see her own hand inches from her face, "Yeah Gin, I'm alright." She coughed into the crook of her arm; blood was dripping from various places on her face, arms, and legs where the glass had cut her. Had she not used her arm to cover her eyes in the split-second before the explosion, she would have been blinded, "Are you?"

"My leg is t-rapped under the dresser, it f-ell over on top me in the explosion," Though she tried to say it calmly, her voice betrayed the pain that she was in.

Slowly, Hermione crawled over the debris strewn across the room to Ginny's side. The dust was finally beginning to clear, and shafts of moonlight shone down to reveal that the entire wall where the window had been was obliterated. How they were both alive was beyond all odds.

Quickly, Hermione used a silent spell to lift and push the dresser away from Ginny. When she let it drop back down, it caved in with a plaintive creak. Hermione hissed in pain when a splinter launched into one of her open wounds.

"I-I think it's broken Hermione." Ginny groaned, "Damn it all, this is not the time. Do you think you could heal it?"

"I don't know Ginny," Hermione muttered, inspecting the leg, "I know the spell, but I've never done it before, I might just make it worse."

They heard an uprising of shouts that they recognized as killing curses, and through the gaping hole in the room, saw a jet of green light that had missed its target sail into the woods and slam into a tree- which promptly burst into bright green flames.

"Just do it," Ginny growled through clenched teeth.

"But Ginny-"

"I'm not going to just sit here while my family is at risk! Now do. The Damn. Spell."

Hermione nodded in understanding, and murmured an incantation Ginny did not recognize. Ginny yelped at the sudden and jolting pain of the bones shifting and locking back into their rightful place, but soon sighed in relief as the pain subsided, leaving only a dull ache in its place.

Experimentally she got to her feet, and hissed slightly as some pain returned, but she did it, she could walk, even if it was at a bit of a limp.

"Good enough," Ginny said, "Let's go kick some ass."

Hermione nodded with a slight smile, "Agreed."

Just as they were making to leave through the door, someone shouted, "Oi! Didn't you blow up that room there?"

Another gruff voice answered, "Yeah, no one could have survived it. If anyone was in there, they are dead now. Come one, the rest are fighting the damn blood-traitors on the other side of this death trap of a house. How it didn't come tumbling down when I blew that side up is beyond me."

"Not bloody likely! I heard voices in there! Come on!"

"Fine, but I'm telling you, no one is going to be in there. No one alive that is."

Hermione looked sideways at Ginny, "Ready?" she whispered.

"Ready."

The two Death Eaters came around the corner and stepped into the room through the demolished side.

The four stared at each other in the breadth of a moment, then the battle begin.

Copious amounts of adrenaline ran through Hermione's veins as she fought, side by side with Ginny. This was her element. She ran through the lists of spells that she had stored and at the ready in her mind, choosing ones that she knew the Death Eaters wouldn't expect, those that would take them off guard even for a moment, and unleashed them. She would not lose this time; no, she would be victorious. She felt more alive in that moment than she had in days. She was who she had always been: the smartest witch of her age; one who used reason to fight, something that some of even the greatest witches and wizards could not claim, and certainly something her opponents never gave thought to, and this gave her an advantage.

She could hear her enemies begin to pant with effort, and could feel their anger and frustration at not being able to get the better of two teenage girls. A surge of pride shot through her as she saw Ginny fighting furiously at her side, giving the dark wizards no ground.

As well as they fought, Hermione and Ginny were still unable to completely defeat their foes, and it seemed as if days of striking and blocking attacks had passed before two twin curses hit the backs of the dark wizards and they crumpled to the ground.

Behind them, Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood stood with their wands pointed where the Death Eaters had once stood, the latter was exceptionally thin and seemed a pale grey, presumably from his time in Azkaban, though it seemed interesting that Luna had been locked in a worse place for much longer and showed no signs that it had ever bothered her in the slightest.

"Death Eaters have quite admirable determination don't they?" Luna said dreamily, as if commenting on what a lovely day it was, "We heard quite a commotion from our house. We rebuilt it, it looks lovely now. Though there is quite the nargle infestation, I had to hang turnips in every doorway. Hermione you seem to be bleeding quite a lot."

Hermione waved away what she thought to be concern, "Thank you for coming, there are other Death Eaters in the back yard, hurry!"

With Ginny limping slightly, but not losing any of her speed, the four of them ran around to the other side of the house, where it seemed to be eerily quiet.


	13. Not Alright

Hermione ducked a jet of green light, and felt it miss her by the breadth of an inch. She had found as she came to the back yard that the only reason that it had gone silent was because everyone was engaged in a duel of silent spells, trying desperately to trip up their opponents. Everyone seemed equally matched, and Hermione hoped that she could help tip the balance in their favor.

Charlie was slumped up against the house wall; his eyes were closed and he was not moving; and Hermione could faintly see a trickle of blood running from his forehead to his chin. For a moment she feared the worst, but before she could think any more about it, she had to throw up a shield charm to rebound a misguided stunning jinx, probably a misfire from one of her own.

Luna had immediately joined the battle; her waist-length dirty-blond hair flew behind her like a golden flag as she agilely leaped and dashed about, sending silent spells at the Death Eaters and darting away before they knew what had hit them and where it had come from. It was astounding how good the girl was at dueling, considering she believed in Crumbled Humdingers… or whatever it was that she called the things.

Hermione turned her gaze away from Luna and to the fight at hand. Mrs. Weasley had just caught glimpse of her son slumped up against that wall, and with a wail she seemed to forget the dark wizard she had been dueling and ran to his side. A jet of green light soured towards her, promising an instant death.

Hoping wildly that her aim would be true, Hermione sent a stunning jinx straight at the flying curse. The two spells met midair in a shower of sparks that reminded her of the fireworks the twins had set off fifth year, and the Death Eater turned to see who it was that had blocked his… her attack.

The Death Eater was stunningly beautiful, and young. Hermione guessed that the girl was sixteen, at most. Long red hair fell gracefully over her shoulders and framed a flawless and pale face. Her big green eyes would have been beautiful if they were not filled with bitter hatred and cruel determination to make others suffer and die. It made Hermione shudder that a girl even younger than Ginny could feel such hatred, and be so determined to kill just because of an ancient prejudice.

The girl's mouth turned up into a cruel smile as she took in Hermione, as if pleased to find someone more her match, and a mudblood, too. There was a hunger in her eyes that caused Hermione to cast the first spell, to get those fierce and terrible eyes off of her.

The girl laughed and dodged Hermione's spell, "This should be fun! The blood-traitor woman wasn't near as into the fight as you are!" she lazily cast a killing curse. Hermione side-stepped it as simply as if it had been merely a cloud of dust that she would rather not have on her clothing.

"Interesting is it?" Hermione asked, flicking her wrist quickly. A spinning disk of blue and silver light erupted from the tip of her wand and grew wider as it soared towards the girl. She had to duck quickly to avoid the disk, and the spell struck a tree behind her and shattered like glass. Over the last week, Hermione had taken to studying even more Defense Against The Dark Arts books, she had found that particular spell in a long list of "Spells that may or may not kill your enemy, but will always stop them from being a threat" she had thought the title of the section to be a bit wordy, but helpful nonetheless; "Funny, I'm finding it to be quite boring," she stifled a yawn and pretended to look at a watch while sidestepping another curse.

"Think yourself a comedian do you mudblood?" the girl hissed, sending spell after spell at her, and growling in frustration as they were countered or dodged.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; instead she twisted and whipped her wand around, sending an array of spells at her opponent. The flashes of light that erupted from her wand came at a dizzying pace, and temporarily impaired her sight. She almost didn't see the green jet flying straight for her through it all, and it sent her heart pounding after she was just able to dodge it: only just.

After being just a moment from death, Hermione sprung toward the girl, dodging her spells as they were shot at her more frantically. The girl's green eyes widened with what Hermione was happy to see: fear, just before Hermione brought her to the ground with a powerful stunning jinx cast just inches from her face. The girl's arrogance had been her downfall.

Hermione spun around with her wand at the ready, prepared to take down any amount of enemies, only to see the last dark wizard fall under one of Ginny's spells.

"Everyone alright?" Harry asked cautiously, looking around and doing a headcount, his worried gaze fell on Charlie.

"He's alright," Mrs. Weasley said through her tears, "I think he was hit with a stunning jinx, but he might be injured from hitting the wall."

"I will go to the Ministry and get Aurors to come and take care of these," Mr. Weasley gestured to the Death Eaters on the ground, some of them were dead, but most were merely stunned, "Take Charlie to Saint Mungo's, just in case. Percy, Bill, and Fleur, I need you to see to it that there aren't any more Death Eaters waiting to take us off guard around here. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, can you count how many there are? And Ron… go check on George, I put a locking spell on his door and window, with him… well… the way he is right now I feared that he might to more harm than good…"

Ron imagined what it would have been like, had George joined the fight. When the twins had fought, they fought together, as a team. Sometimes they even fought back to back. Had George been under the delusion that Fred was still there, he might have turned his back to Death Eaters without a thought, believing his twin was there to block their attacks.

"Yeah dad, I'll go check on him," he headed back into the house as everyone else did as they were ordered with an air of seriousness.

The stairs protested, as they always did, as he made his way to the second floor. They creaked, groaned, and complained copiously at every step Ron took, but he barely noticed; he had a sick feeling in his stomach that increased the closer he got to George's room. He had avoided George all day, ever since he had started acting like Fred was still there. He didn't want to have to be the one to tell him.

Finally, when he could avoid it no longer, Ron unlocked the door and pushed it open and found himself face to face with his brother.

"What the hell?" George growled, "Who locked us in here? We could see the Death Eaters through the window, but even that won't open! And believe me, we tried all we had in our arsenal to open it."

"Who's 'we' George?" Ron waved his arms, "there's only you in this room."

George stared up at Ron like he was mental, and then turned his head to his left, "I reckon he's finally lost it. We knew it was only a matter of time," he turned back to Ron with a mocking smile on his face, "Don't you see Fred here? You know, your brother, my twin, also known as George-plus-one-ear?"

"Fred is dead, George. He died a week ago, in the battle."

George turned to the invisible person on his left again, laughing "He really has gone mental hasn't he? I don't know how we're going to tell mum..."

In desperation, Ron swung his arm through the area George was addressing.

George jumped back, "How in the bloody hell did you do that?" then a grin spread across his face, "Ah, you're pranking me! How'd you do that Freddie? We're going to make a bloody fortune! 'Trick you're friends into thinking you're a ghost with…' well you're better at coming up with names…"

"George!" Ron roared, grabbing his brother's shoulders and shaking him violently, "Fred is dead! You're imagining him! His funeral is three days from now! GET THAT INTO YOUR HEAD!" Ron was openly weeping now, and shoved George away from him, "Pretending isn't going to bring him back, George," before he turned away and walked out of the room, Ron saw the dead and distant look return to George's eyes.

X  
>X<p>

"Twenty," Harry spat with contempt, "How could there have been twenty?"

"That's not the worst part," Hermione sighed, rubbing Dittany on the last of her cuts. She felt a bit lightheaded from the loss of blood, but was otherwise fine, "fifteen of them were our age or younger. It's such a shame."

"How is it a shame?" Ginny snapped, before Fleur had left to scout, she had properly healed Ginny's leg so that her slight limp was gone, and she had also used the Dittany on a few of her cuts, "The little bleeders deserve a life in Azkaban, no less."

Hermione leaned forward, drumming her fingers gently on the kitchen table, "It's a shame that they forsook their entire lives because of a misguided hatred. One girl I dueled was clever, and might have been a challenge had she not been so set on using the killing curse. She could have had potential, lived a good life, but instead she threw it away because she thinks people like me have no right to exist," she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, "and that, is a shame."

Ginny grunted her agreement, but said nothing.

"Why were there so many young Death Eaters?" Harry asked, "Before today, the youngest one I've ever known of was Malfoy; now there's fifteen of them trying to kill us."

"My guess is that they are the children of Death Eaters that were killed," Hermione twirled a lock of her brown, curly hair absent-mindedly as she spoke, "Or else just supporters of Voldemort. With the number of Death Eaters decreased, there were probably a number of them looking for revenge, as well as looking to prove their worth. What better way than to take out the biggest blood-traitor family, a mudblood, and Harry Potter?"

Luna nodded, playing idly with her butterbeer cork necklace, "I suppose Hermione is correct. They said some very unkind things, but weren't very good duelers. They should have been part of the DA, then they might have had a chance."

The staircase creaked, and only Luna didn't look to see who it was; she instead stared out the kitchen window as if suddenly bored. Ron stalked over to them, and slumped down onto one of the empty kitchen chairs with a sigh. They all recognized the anger in his expression, and said nothing. Hermione reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze of comfort before pulling away again. They had heard Ron's shouting, but none of them, not even Luna, sought to make a comment about it.

"What are you lot doing in here?" he mumbled, "I thought you were out counting."

"We did," Harry replied, "Twenty. Fifteen of them were eighteen or younger by our estimate. The Aurors, Kingsley included, are our rounding them up."

"Bloody hell, how are there still more of them?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Harry sighed and rubbed his temples, "I've got the worst bloody headache, but at least my scar doesn't hurt anymore."

"Yeah, good thing," Ron huffed, "I think mum would have a fit if it did."

Ginny chuckled slightly, "Well she's going to have a heart-attack when she sees my room."

"What's wrong with your room?" Harry asked.

"Did you two hear that giant explosion?"

Harry and Ron nodded, indicating that they had, but hadn't put much thought to it.

"Yeah, that was the sound of the entire outside wall of my bedroom exploding. I don't know how Hermione and I survived."

Hermione hissed slightly in pain, pulling a long shard of glass that she had missed from her arm. The adrenaline was fading quickly, and with its departure, pain was making itself well known.

"Yes, it looks quite awful," Luna said, "I am quite glad you are all alive."

"We're glad you came when you did, Luna," Hermione replied, spreading more Dittany over where she had pulled the shard of glass from, "You are quite a good dueler."  
>Luna smiled slightly, "That's nice."<p> 


	14. Don't Know

"Ginny, let's go see what we can do about your room," Harry muttered, they had long been sitting in silence, listening to the occasional murmurings of the Aurors asking Mr. Weasley questions. They could tell from the tone of his voice that he was trying to be patient, but was desperate to disapperate to Saint Mungo's to see his son and be with his wife.

"I am quite practiced in construction spells," Luna said serenely as she tucked her wand behind her ear, "I did quite well helping Daddy repair our house. I can help you if you'd like, unless you are just saying that so that the two of you can be alone together?"

Harry grinned, "We'd love your help Luna, and I don't really know anything about construction spells."

The three of them got to their feet, and Luna started off down the hall with a slight skip in her step, calling over her shoulder, "Come now, I'll teach you."

Ginny smiled after her friend, grabbed Harry's hand, and pulled him down the hallway.

"Do you want to go with them?" Ron grumbled, not taking his eyes off of the kitchen table and absent-mindedly picking at a chip in the wood.

"No," Hermione replied quietly, "I feel a bit light-headed, I'd rather just sit here. You can go though, if you'd like."

For the first time since he had entered the room, Ron looked up, and his blue eyes widened when he took in Hermione; though a lot of it had washed away when she applied the Dittany, blood caked parts of her face and matted bits of her hair. Crimson stained the entire front of her glass shredded robes, and Ron knew her fighting style well enough to know that it wasn't someone else's blood, she didn't use cutting spells on people.

"Bloody hell Hermione! What happened? My god… are you alright?" Ron rushed around the table and knelt at her side, she was pale, and by the way she sat there, it appeared she was slightly disoriented. He quickly stood up again, and ran to a cupboard.

"Ginny told you that a Death Eater blew up the outside wall, I was standing at the window. I'm fine, Ron, I just feel a little light-headed is all. Maybe a little dizzy, too, but I'm fine. I've already applied the Dittany-"

She stopped when Ron pushed a glass full of cold water into her hands; "Sip it slowly," he told her, his eyes were earnest, and full of worry, "It helps."

"Ron-"

"Hermione."

She stared into his eyes for a long moment, then did as he said.

Ron sat back on his heels and watched her, guilt wracking him. He hadn't even thought of her, he hadn't even looked to see where she was. All he could think about was killing Death Eaters, his rage had overcome him. He hadn't even looked at her until moments ago.

Ron clenched his fists, angry at himself. He had yelled at her, a lot, the last week, and she had taken it for the most part with a calm that he hadn't known she had, and then she kept coming to comfort him, even though she knew he might start shouting at her. He felt sick with himself. Just that morning, he had been happy, actually happy, that she was yelling, even though it was about that awful day at Malfoy Manor… that is until she fainted… he wasn't happy then; he was panicked.

Ron still wished that she would stop being so damn calm all the time, to just let it out, like he was. He wanted to let so much more out to her, to shout without shouting at her, to ask her why all of these things had to happen to them. She was Hermione, she had to know the answers… she knew everything. He couldn't ask her what he needed to though, not while she was so closed off; she scared him.

He wished he had looked at her earlier; he had been far too obsessed with George, and what he had said to him. Ron knew someone had needed to tell him, but as his anger was fading, he thought he might have done more harm than good. He looked up into Hermione's face again; at least she was starting to regain a little color.

Hermione closed her eyes as she sipped the cold water; it felt incredibly refreshing on her dry throat, and she was already starting to feel better.

The discovery of how many young Death Eaters there were had disturbed her. That all of them were so willing to take up the awful duties of Death Eaters was sickening. She knew without a doubt that the girl that she had dueled would have tortured anyone as relentlessly as Bellatrix had done to her… no, this was not the time to dwell upon that. There were things to do, people to take care of. She was certain that there was a book that she had read somewhere that might be able to help George, but at the moment she couldn't remember what. She hated that- not remembering things- especially the important things that might help, like what book it was that had mentioned magical twin separation… she hardly ever forgot things that she read, but this one piece of information was eluding her; it was dancing just out of her reach, but close enough to taunt her. She wished she could erase her experience at Malfoy Manor and replace it with useful information…

In her mind she scolded herself, Hermione continuously found her thoughts wondering to that awful day… except for when she was fighting, like just an hour before. She was shocked to find how geared for it she had become in just the last few years, ever since they had started the DA. The adrenaline rush was strangely fulfilling to her, and the arsenal of different spells she always had at the ready made her feel… powerful. All else was forgotten when she was dueling, it was just her and her opponent. There was no painful memories, no trauma, no sadness; there was just her, her knowledge, her wand, her opponent, anger, and the plentiful fuel of adrenaline.

She opened her eyes and set the cup on the table. Ron was staring up at her from his kneeling position on the floor: obviously worried, and there was something else… guilt?

"Hermione-" he choked on a bit of emotion, "Hermione, I'm sorry."

She furrowed her brow in confusion, "What are you sorry for? You were right, the water did help…"

He dismissed what she was saying with a wave of his hand, "I'm sorry that… I didn't realize that you were hurt sooner. I was just… so caught up in everything else that I-… I didn't even realize that you were hurt."

"Ron…" Hermione pushed her chair away and knelt down in front of him so that they were at the same eye level, "I'm fine; you can't expect to keep track of me all of the time. I can take care of myself; just…" she reached up and touched his cheek tenderly with just the tips of her fingers, and a lone tear formed at the corner of one of her eyes, "just take care of you, ok?"

He grabbed her hand and gripped it tightly, like a lifeline, like he had seen Ginny doing to Harry as they sat at the kitchen table, when walked through the hallway, and when they said goodnight. At that moment he felt a fool. He had missed out on this comfort, and though there was that long kiss that they had had a few days ago, it hadn't been real; it had been two of them fighting away their own demons, neither caring at all that moment for another, but just fighting memories. Here, as they sat facing each other on the floor beside the kitchen table, it meant more than any interaction they had had since the battle ended.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he rasped, "I'm not as strong as you, I think. I'm just… I'm always so angry. All of the time."

"It's ok to be angry, Ron," Hermione whispered, the tear slipped down her cheek, and another followed close behind.

Fleur and Bill began to walk into the room but, in seeing Ron and Hermione, stopped in their tracks and backed out. Bill gave Percy, who had been following behind them, a hushed excuse of why they should go out into the garden instead of the kitchen.

"I'm angry at everyone, everything," Ron's voice was hushed, and painfully bitter, "I'm angry at George for being so messed up, at mum for trying to play along with him, at Percy for casting spells left and right, at Charlie for spinning his wand all the damn time… and I'm angry at you, for being too strong."

"I'm not all that strong," she sniffed, looking away from him.

Ron reached up with his free hand and rubbed a tear away from her cheek with his thumb, "Bullshit," he replied, "you're the strongest person here… except for maybe Luna, I don't think the world ending would phase her. She'd probably go looking for Trupely Fronsers or something loony like that," he grinned at her.

Hermione let out a small chuckle, "That she might…"

His face turned more serious as he asked, "Why did all of this happen to us, Hermione?" in that moment, when her deep brown eyes met his, he actually expected an answer he could hold on to, and actually held his breath. Hermione knew everything, right? She had to know.

"I don't know, Ron," she pulled her hand away from his and tried to wipe away another tear, but before she could, Ron pulled her close to him and let her cry into his shoulder as he wept quietly along with her and ran his hand over her curly brown hair.

X

X

Author's note: This was what I call a 'cool down chapter'. Nothing much happened in it, but there was some fundamental character development that I hope I made clear. I also had fun playing around with a third person omniscient point-of-view; I think I did it well and without it seeming jumpy or confusing. Let me know what you think if it so suits you. Thank you again to all of you that have reviewed my story, I appreciate it greatly.


	15. Angry Rain

A long, drawn out snorting sound jolted Hermione awake.

She found herself lying on the worn out couch in the Burrow's living room, still fully clothed, with a book on her lap and her wand held loosely in her hand. She had fallen asleep leaning against Ron as she read and the sound of his snoring and the rise and fall of his chest told her that he had done the same.

It was dark. The house was asleep. Those who had seen Hermione and Ron asleep on the couch had let them be; the sight of the two brought a slight smile to the lips of a mother who had spent the day in tears until she had found out that her son would truly be alright, and even then, it had reminded her of the son that hadn't been alright.

A small tap could be heard through the pressing darkness of the living room when Hermione softly set her book upon the floor. She got off of the couch slowly and carefully so as not to disturb Ron's sleep, then she quietly slipped out the front door, opening and closing it with great care so that it wouldn't squeak.

The waning moon lit the landscape in a dim blue; giving everything it touched blurred lines, faulty shadows, and the impression that it was painted in blue watercolors. It was quiet but for the lonely song of a cricket, and the crunch of gravel beneath Hermione's feet as she walked away from the house.

She felt calmed by the crisp night air, and the blissful silence and darkness slowed her pounding heart. Before she had awoken, she had found herself once again being dragged across the marble floor of Malfoy Manor by her hair, catching one last glimpse of Ron's frightened eyes before he was led forcefully down a flight of stairs and out of sight. She could avoid such memories in waking life, but her dreams continued to force those images powerfully upon her consciousness. Hermione could not remember the last time she slept well.

She paced back and forth along the garden fence, preoccupying herself with other things. More important things.

There was a low rumble in the distance, betraying that rain was on its way to disturb the still night air.

Charlie had spent the day in Saint Mungo's, though grudgingly. Hermione had heard from Mr. Weasley as he came back on occasion to give updates. The healers had healed his wounds within moments of his arrival, but after they had heard that he had been in a battle with dark wizards, they had spent the rest of the day giving him various potions and casting different spells to see if there was any dark magic within him that could potentially be dangerous. Charlie had complained throughout the entire process, exclaiming that he worked with dragons every day and a silly little Death Eater curse wasn't going to do him in if dragons couldn't. He had been ignored, and at the end of the day, no dark magic had been found and he had been sent home healthy, even if a bit grumpier.

Hermione shuddered as she wondered if there was any left-over dark magic in her, or Harry. They had both been hit with unforgivable curses, and those were as dark as they came. She resolved to find a book on it, along with a book on magical twin separation.

She sighed and kicked at the dirt. There was so much to do.

Hermione was finding herself being worn down, feeling her energy draining with each day. Simple tasks seemed enormous and impossible, and even the slightest annoyance made her want to explode with rage. It reminded her much of the exhaustion that she had had third year, when she had taken too many classes than she could handle, but this exhaustion was different, more intense. There was so much to do, so many people to take care of.

As she scanned the area, she saw a strange shadow on the ground, away from the many footprints from the battle of the night before, in the far corner of the garden. Her curiosity sparked, Hermione went over to investigate.

There, in the soft, damp soil, was a large paw print.

Hermione spun around, drawing her wand as she turned, at the sound of a long screech.

"Bloody door," a familiar voice muttered, "Hermione? Hermione is that you?"

Sighing in relief, Hermione tucked her wand back into her robes and started over to the figure standing in front of the Burrow door. She gasped when she found herself at the point of a wand; the threat was clear in the figure's stance.

"Ron, what-"

"First year, when you, me, and Harry were caught in that… plant… thing… you said were upset there was no wood to light a fire with. What did I say to you?"

Hermione relaxed, "You said, 'Are you mad? Are you a witch or not?' if I remember correctly. And it was called Devil's snare by the way, you might know that if you had ever paid attention in Herbolgy"

Ron smiled and lowered his wand, "A lot of help that would have done, 'paying attention in Herbolgy', you're mental. What are you doing out here?"

"Just thinking."

Ron's heart dropped when he heard the coldness of her voice, and in turn felt his ever present anger flare. Hadn't they gotten past this? He thought that he had finally gotten her to show something.

She must have seen the anger in his expression, because she took a half-step away from him, "What's wrong?"

With a deep breath, Ron forced his anger down; even so, he felt it bubbling under close to the surface; "Nothing," he held out his hand, "walk with me?"

Hermione smiled a smile that did not reach her eyes, and grasped his hand. Side-by-side they walked away from the Burrow.

Ron squeezed her hand gently, and felt his anger rise up like a cobra in his chest when her hand gave no response. It just sat in his grip limply; if he had let go, Ron imagined that her hand would fall to her side unnoticed.

She walked with her back as straight as a soldier's, and with her chin up with purpose; stoic brown eyes took in the roiling, deep blue landscape without even glancing at Ron, and they watched the dark rain clouds, that were rapidly rolling in, with a measured curiosity.

He could take it no longer.

After letting go of her hand, Ron grabbed her by the shoulders and hurriedly pushed her backwards until her back was flush against a tree.

"What are you-"

"Listen," he said, he tried to convey how desperate he was through his voice, but it came out an angry growl, "we aren't leaving this spot until you give me what you want."

A touch of fear danced across her face, barely visible in the moonlight, "What- what do you want?"

"I want you back."

"What do you mean?"

The cobra in Ron's chest struck, "Don't 'what do you mean' me, Hermione. I've been saying it for days, I've yelled at you, and I've begged you, and yesterday I thought you were finally coming back, but you aren't. And it's not just me who sees it, Ginny does, and so does Harry, but they're patient. You've known me long enough to know that I haven't any bloody patience," the great snake hissed its pleasure at his angry words.

"What do you want from me, Ron?" she asked weakly, staring distantly over his shoulder.

"I want you to talk. I want that damn unfeeling look gone."

Hermione tried to push away from the tree, but Ron held her still, "No! You've been avoiding it all for days. All the rest of us have at least shown… something! It's your turn!"

In an instant, Ron saw the expression of untamable fury that always meant that he was in gigantic trouble.

A dark cloud passed over the moon, making it so that Ron could only see Hermione by the small light of the stars; fat and heavy rain started to fall around them, landing soundlessly in the dust.

Hermione brought her hands up and shoved his shoulders, hard. Ron stumbled backwards a few steps and she followed right behind, her hair was tossed by the wind and looked like livid fire, "How dare you?" she hissed, shoving him back again just as he had regained his balance, "How dare you tell me what to do, like I'm some sort of child? I have been patient and as calm as possible over the last few days while you've yelled at me and told me that I 'need' to do what you want me to do, and I've been understanding of what you might be feeling. But I will not tolerate being trapped and forced to do what you want. Will not, Ronald! Who are _you_, to say how I need to cope with things? Just because I don't blow up every moment, doesn't mean that there's something wrong with me!"

The cobra rose up again, "Of course there's something wrong with you Hermione!" then the snake recoiled in fear; wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say.

Rain fell on them harder and faster now, and raindrops streaked down Hermione's face like angry tears, "What!"

"By that I meant that- well- there's something wrong with all of us!" Ron sputtered, "We just came out of a bloody war!" Their faces were close together; their eyes were wide with anger as rain poured around them and soaked their clothes.

Hermione's hair was no longer bushy, but plastered close to her head; she didn't seem to notice. She shouted over the clatter of thunder, "Don't you think I know that, Ron? I am kindly reminded of it every day! But there are people that have it worse off than I do! Like you, and Ginny, and Harry, and the rest of your family!"

Ron ran his hand through his wet hair in exasperation, staring off at a distant lighting strike. Quietly, but just loud enough for Hermione to hear over the bucketing rain, he said, "You don't have to take care of us, Hermione."

She just shook her head and stared at him in vexation; her eyes were suddenly very old, "Of course I do. I always have."

He opened his mouth to argue, but found that there was nothing to argue against. She had always taken care of them, from helping them on homework, to solving problems they would have never solved on their own. Where would they be without her? Long dead, that's where, he thought.

They both seemed to notice the cold of the rain now, and Hermione shivered, "Ron, I-… I have to take care of you all. Who else will? I can't talk; I can't let go like you want me to, because there is just… there is so much to do, Ron. And who else is going to do it but me?"

"Me?" Ron ventured.

Hermione shook her head, and the corners of her mouth turned up into a sad, knowing smile as she put a hand on his chest, "No, Ron. You won't; and you shouldn't, after Fred… well… you just shouldn't. I can, and will, put everything that I've dealt with, aside, for now. When the time comes, I will talk. But just now… there's so much to do."

"Can't I help?" Ron asked helplessly, "Can't we all help? Why do you have to do it all?"

"Haven't you learned?" Hermione touched his cheek gently; water dripped from her chin in a steady stream, "That's what I do."

Wind buffeted them, and tore at their cloaks violently; they said nothing and listened to the drum roll of falling rain.

"You don't want to remember, do you Hermione?"

"No. I don't. But I do… it seems I always will."

Ron ran his fingers through his hair again, "Me too. That was the scariest thing in the world, being trapped down there while-… being able to do nothing when-"

"I know," Hermione took her hand away from him and clenched it.

"We're alive though, yeah?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded, staring down at her clenched fist, "We're alive."

Ron reached up and tilted her chin gently, so she met his eyes. The rain slowed to light sprinkle, but the clouds remained dark, threatening more torrential downpour. He kissed her softly, and she responded just as tenderly. This time, they were not trying to forget, but reminding themelves of what it felt like to live.


	16. Walls and Voices

_Fred Weasley_

_April 1, 1978 - May 2, 1998_

_Laughter is eternal_

A sad smile spread across George's face, and another firecracker went off a few feet above the gravesite.

"Laughter is eternal my good man!" Fred had said, as they stared up at their newly opened shop so long ago, "It spreads from one person to another, to another, to another! This is how we will live forever Georgie!"

Live forever indeed, thought George bitterly. Fred had been far from living forever. He died in the damn Battle of Hogwarts. The last battle. The great git didn't even have the decency to live through the last fucking battle.

Laughter may be eternal, but it didn't make his brother live forever.

Another firecracker popped, a little further away this time, and with he heard a girl squeal and another person laugh.

"Don't blame me," Fred said, "Not my fault a bloody wall exploded on me."

_Get out of my head,_ George thought as he stared down at the gravestone, _you're dead._

"Well I know that, you big one-eared prat," Fred replied with a chuckle, "But do you? Come on mate, I told you, I can't leave until you let me. I can't leave you a bumbling madman. Think of my reputation."

_I feel like a madman with your voice constantly in my head. What about that time I actually saw you? Everyone thought I was off my rocker._

"Oh, but you are," Fred replied simply, "And you were just seeing what you wanted to see earlier, I didn't make you see me."

_So is this really you? Like, are you talking to me from some sort of afterlife? Or is this just me going insane? _This was the first time George had found the strength to ask Fred these questions, he had always been afraid of what the answers might be.

"Damned if I know," Fred replied, George imagined his twin flopping down on a big chair, kicking his feet up, and leaning back with a contented sigh in the depths of George's mind, "All I know is that I'm here until you figure things out. No rush though, I'm quite comfortable."

_You're a git._

"Love you too, George."

George drew his gaze away from the gravestone and looked around the cemetery that every Weasley had been buried for as long as the family name had existed.

There were a few obscure family members he didn't even know that wondered the graves nearby while occasionally glancing over at him with pity in their eyes. Beyond them, in the field beside the graveyard, was the party.

George had insisted upon a party, instead of a mournful service; it was a sendoff, a celebration of Fred's life, not a mourning of his death. Fred had wanted that, he told him so.

Legless tables hovered above the ground, and if anyone took too long getting something off of the serving tables, they would dart away. People at first had been confused and annoyed by it, but now that their reflexes had quickened, they thought it a quite clever way to cut down lines at the punchbowl. It had been Fred's idea. As had been spiking the food with Weasley Wizard Weezes merchandise; more laughter touched the graveyard than it ever had in the centuries of its existence.

With no set pattern, fireworks went off above the heads of the guests, sparkling brilliantly before turning into smoke and being swept away on a gentle breeze.

Ron and Hermione were standing a bit off to the side, staring into the distance, away from the party. She gently rubbed his back while he leaned against her for support. Occasionally, his shoulders would shake with wracking sobs, and she would look up at him and whisper something in his ear. A little after the skirmish at the Burrow, the two had become closer than others around them could have imagined they would be. It was sickeningly sweet, so George turned his gaze elsewhere, ignoring the painfully lonely feeling in his gut as he did. He noticed though, before he looked back to Fred's grave, that Harry and Ginny were walking over to the other couple, hand in hand.

"You need to get yourself a girlfriend, mate," Fred said, George could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice.

"Sod off," George replied aloud.

"What- what did you say dear?" Mrs. Weasley sniffed, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief and looking over to him. George had forgotten that she was standing beside him.

"Nothing mum," he replied, but he stepped up closer to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I miss him," she whispered.

"Me too," he breathed.

"You take care of her now," Fred said, his voice suddenly low and threatening, "and you let her know that I love her. Just… you make sure she knows alright?"

"He loves you, mum."

She nodded, wiping her eyes, "I know he does."

"I love you too, mum," he felt his eyes misting over with tears.

"I love you too, George."

"You better take care of her," Fred repeated, even his voice was choked with grief.

X

X

"The shields are secure?" Ginny asked again, craning her neck to look around, as if a Death Eater might jump out at any moment from behind a family member.

"I've been keeping them up, and checking them every few minutes," Hermione replied. She had her wand held tightly in the hand that wasn't on Ron's back, ready to act at a moment's notice. There would be no dark wizards intruding upon Fred's funeral if she had anything to say about it. True, there were Aurors there that would quash any threat, but she didn't trust anything, especially after a hoard of Death Eaters had made it through the Weasley's shields. Hermione noted in her mind to suggest casting a Fidelius charm upon the house.

"Do you need help with them?" Ginny asked, still looking nervous.

"It's fine Ginny, I have everything under control."

Ginny groaned, "I hate this feeling, that we might be attacked at any moment."

"Ginny, I told you-"

"I know, I know, the shields are secure, you have everything under control, but I can't shake this _feeling_. After Monday…"

"I know what you mean," Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly; "It was like that all the time the last year. I kept waiting for the moment when Voldemort finally caught up with us," as a reflex, he reached up and touched his scar, then smiled, "but he never did, and now he never will. It's still so hard to believe that he's dead. The last seven years…"

Hermione nodded in understanding, the last seven years had been one trial after another, all leading up to the final defeat of Lord Voldemort. For a moment, as Voldemort had fallen dead to the ground, Hermione thought that it meant the end of fighting, the end of life-and-death situations, the end of fear. Those were foolish thoughts, she now realized, but she had hope that one day that there would be a time when she did not have to constantly cast shield charms wherever she went, and wonder if a person she didn't recognize was a dark wizard.

And yet, with every trial, every heartbreak, the six years that she had been in Hogwarts had been the best years of her life. There she had found friends, knowledge, and the beginning of an understanding that she had craved for since she had first picked up a book.

"I just realized, mate" Ron said, he looked over at Harry and smiled, but his eyes were red from tears, "I never thanked you for killing that bastard. Thanks."

Harry shrugged, "I couldn't have done it without you two."

Another distinctive pop of a firework shivered through the air, and the four of them stood silent for a few moments.

"It's awful, isn't it?" Ginny sniffed ad wiped her eyes on her sleeve, "Knowing that- that Fred isn't here to make us laugh anymore."

"Yeah," Ron replied huskily, staring off at the distant mountains.

"It sounds foolish but," Hermione began, "I didn't expect to live through the war, or for Ron to, or Harry. We've always been in the line of fire. You have too, Ginny. But Fred… I expected him and George to live to be foolish old men, setting off fireworks with walking sticks."

"He shouldn't have died," Harry mumbled, "A lot of people died that shouldn't have died for me."

Hermione looked over at him, his green eyes were heavy with guilt, "Harry, they didn't die for you. They died for all of us."

The grass at their feet swayed gently in the breeze, and a single sparrow flitted across the sky; the grass was still wet from the rain of two nights before.

"I saw you talking to Kingsley, earlier. Have they caught anymore Death Eaters?" Ran asked Harry hopefully.

Harry shook his head, "The Death Eaters that they arrested at the Burrow aren't giving anyone up. They've been taught how to resist Veritaserum with Occlumency."

"All of them?" Hermione asked, incredulous, "How can all of them know Occlumency well enough to protect themselves against Veritaserum? Most of them are so young."

"Malfoy learned how."

"Yes, but… all of them…"

"I don't know how they're doing it, Hermione," Harry said with a sigh, "but they are. Kingsley says they have been interrogating them all for hours on end, and they're getting nothing out of them."

Ginny shifted from one foot to another, "If they are all so well learned in Occlumency, that means they have to have something to hide don't they?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at her, "Well don't they? I mean think about it. Think about how many Death Eaters escaped, and those are the ones we know about, and now we have to worry about their kids now too. These Death Eaters that attacked us, they can't be the only ones. The shields are still secure Hermione?"

"Yes, Ginny, I will tell you if they aren't. And I agree with you, there are other Death Eaters out there. I think it'll be a while until we can consider ourselves safe… if ever. There might always be Voldemort fanatics out for us."

"Can we just stop talking about this right now?" Ron snapped, "I'd rather not discuss how we'll always have fucking dark wizards breathing down our necks, at my brother's funeral, now if you'll excuse me" he pulled away from Hermione and started walking over to Fred's grave, where Mrs. Weasley and George were staring down at the grave with their arms wrapped around each other.

"I think I'll go with him," Ginny muttered, letting go of Harry's hand and following Ron, "I've been avoiding it all day."

Harry and Hermione stood side by side and watched Ginny and Ron join their mother and brother with sad smiles and comforting embraces. The two stood away from the graveyard, and away from the party. A wall that neither of them could truthfully identify separated them from everyone else there, even when their significant others had been at their side, they had still been separated by something infallible.

As they stood there, feeling like the only two people on Earth, Hermione said, "I think we should do the Fidelius charm on the Burrow."

Harry nodded his accent and pushed his shaggy black hair out of his eyes, "Mr. Weasley as Secret Keeper?"

"That's who I was thinking of."

"Good plan. Let's talk about it with them tomorrow. And Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

He smiled, "Thanks for not letting me and Ron get killed."

"Well someone had to keep you two out of trouble while you were blundering about," she winked.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment before Hermione spoke again, "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You need to get your hair cut."

"I know. I'll put that on my to-do list right after the Fidelius charm and right before becoming an Auror and going after dark wizards," he teased.

"Kingsley asked you, too? Oh nevermind, that's a stupid question. Of course he asked you," she flicked her wand and tested the shield charm again, and found it sound.

"Yeah he did. Are you taking him up on it?"

She shook her head, "No, that was never my dream. I'm going back to school and am going to get my NEWTS. Then I'm going to see what I can do to expand upon S.P.E.W.."

Harry nodded, "I expected you would go back. I just can't, you know? After what happened there… and especially after Kingsley gave me an opportunity like that, I just can't turn that down."

Hermione smiled, "You've always had a saving people thing, Harry. But I couldn't bear not going back, not finishing. It's going to be so strange without you and Ron."

"Ron's not going back?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Ron? Go back to school when he has the option not to?"

Harry chuckled, "I suppose you're right. So he's told you then?"

"No, but I know."

"Have you told him that you're going back?"

She shook her head again, "Not yet."

X

Authors Note: For those who have read this chapter before I changed it, take note that I changed the suggestion of Neville as Secret Keeper to Mr. Weasley. One of my reviewers: jesrod82 (I strongly suggest you read her stories) pointed out that it was irrational that they choose Neville as Secret Keeper, I agree, so BAM, it has been changed. That's what great reviews are for: to help you become a better writer, thank you Jessica!


	17. Weasley Curse

Author's Note: Thank you again to all of you that have reviewed my story, it is greatly appreciated. I made a tiny change to the last chapter, check the Author's note at the very end of it and that will tell you the nature of the change.

I am quickly getting tired of writing the angstiness, as I am more of an action writer, but alas, it must be done for the integrity of the story. No worries though, as it will pick up. Thank you all once again for the reviews, it makes me happy every time I get one.

X

X

They had been putting it off, ever since the war had ended. Sure, they had put simple shield charms around the Burrow, but a Fidelius Charm was a true admission that they were still in danger. Putting it off had nearly cost them their lives just days before, but finally casting it now made the air heavier. The war was over, but danger still lurked in every shadow. The Weasley family, including Hermione and Harry, stood together about twenty yards away from the Burrow, watching the proceedings silently.

Mr. Weasley finished drawing a golden barrier around the Burrow with his wand and stepped right up to the edge of the shining line he had just drawn, he stood inside the barrier, facing the rest of his family and away from the Burrow.

Bill walked over to him, stopping in front of Mr. Weasley with his toes almost touching the outside of the barrier. Together, the two raised their wands and held their tips just inches from each other's.

"Vinculum Arthur Weasley Fidelia," silver light erupted from the tip of Bill's wand after he said the spell, and ribbons of light wrapped themselves around Mr. Weasley's arms and spun around the golden barrier that encompassed the house.

"Suscipre," Mr. Weasley's voice vibrated up and down the barriers, and as it ebbed away, so did the Burrow, until Mr. Weasley, the Burrow, and the barrier, all disappeared from sight, leaving Bill staring expectantly the empty patch of grass where their home had once been.

In moments, Mr. Weasley stepped out of thin air and walked with Bill over to the rest of the family.

"The Weasley home is here, on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole," Mr. Weasley told them, just barely loud enough for them to hear, and, as if it had never disappeared, the Burrow showed itself to them once again.

"There," Mrs. Weasely said as she began walking up to the house, "Let that be the end of all this Death Eater nonsense!" She said all of this comically loud, right before she passed where the barrier of the spell would be, as if to further warn any Death Eaters that might have been hiding in the trees.

"Only mum would try to lecture dark wizards," Ron said.

George chuckled as he walked by, "If they overheard her, and if they have any brains at all, they probably just pissed themselves."

Ron chortled and shook his head, then, with his arm draped across Hermione's shoulders, followed the rest of his family up to the Burrow, leaving Harry and Ginny standing alone.

"They sure have gotten friendlier, haven't they?" Ginny said.

"Who?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded toward Hermione and Ron, who were just disappearing into the house, "Hermione and Ron."

"Oh," Harry replied absentmindedly, "Yeah, they've been better since the day after the Death Eaters attacked."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you kidding? Didn't you hear them screaming at each other a few days ago?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well I suppose that makes sense, since you were sleeping on the top floor, but I could hear them over the rain. They got in a nasty row, but I guess they've sorted it out now."

"What were they fighting about?"

Ginny shrugged, "Couldn't tell. It was mostly Hermione yelling, then it got real quiet. I got worried, and went over to my window, but by the time I looked out they were both walking up to the house again. They were soaked, but they hadn't killed each other," She grabbed Harry's hand and began to lead him to the Burrow, "I guess we should head in, eh?"

Before she could lead him far, Harry spun her around and pulled her into a crushing hug, "I thought I'd never see you again," he muttered into her hair as he held her close.

"Me too," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him, "When You-Know-Who came out… and I saw you in Hagrid's arms… you looked- s-so… I thought-"

"I know," Harry ran his hand through her long red hair.

"It was like the whole world had crashed down," she mumbled, "Everyone thought- that as long as you were alive- that we had a chance. And when we thought you were d-dead… it was like all our hope was sucked out of us…"

Harry continued to stroke her hair and rocking gently side to side, "I looked at the Marauder's Map all the time, when Hermione, Ron, and I were all on the run, just to find your name, to make sure you were safe."

Ginny pulled away marginally and looked up at him, tears were threatening to fall from her brown eyes as she asked, "Really?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah."

She gave him a crooked grin, "I don't know if I should find that romantic, or creepy."

Laughing, Harry pulled her close again and said, "You Weasleys, can't have one serious moment, can you?"

"Family curse," Ginny replied and rested her chin on Harry's shoulder.

"I-…I love you, Ginny" Harry whispered. His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to burst as he awaited her answer.

"Even though I have the Weasley curse?" she asked quietly, not seeming at all surprised by what he had just said.

"Of course."

"Well then I suppose," she pulled back again and put her hands on his shoulders, she had a silly grin plastered on her face, "that I love you too."

Harry beamed, "Even though I can be stupid and noble sometimes?"

She clouted him on his arm, "_Especially_ because you are stupid and noble _all_ of the time," very suddenly, her gaze shifted to something over Harry's shoulder and her smile disappeared.

"What is it?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes off her face and preparing to draw his wand at a moment's notice.

She shook her head and whispered, "I just thought I saw something… in the trees. Let's just… go inside now, yeah?"

Glancing over their shoulders as they went, the two hurried into the Burrow.

X

X

Hermione moaned softly as Ron pressed her up against his door and dotted kisses along her jawline. She wrapped her hands into his flaming red hair and pulled his lips back up to hers.

"You locked the door?" he mumbled as they pulled away, gasping for air.

She nodded and whispered, "Three different spells. Harry wouldn't even know what to do with himself if he tried to get in."

"You clever witch," Ron pressed close to her and kissed her again, groaning at the feeling of her body flush against his.

They hadn't argued since the night in the rain; they had come to a silent agreement that they wouldn't talk about what had happened to them for the time being, that they would just live. Both of them sensed the day that they would finally have to come to terms with all that had happened was fast approaching, but it felt good to ignore it for a little while. It felt very good.

Hermione let her hands fall down to the hem of his shirt, and, after fumbling for a moment, let them climb up the smooth landscape of his back underneath it.

Ron moaned and, not to be outdone, allowed one hand to travel to Hermione's stomach and waver there. He pulled away from her and met her eyes with the question written clearly in his eyes. Hermione stared at him for a moment; then a mischievous smile came across her face; she nodded and kissed him again, shaking slightly in anticipation.

"Ron!" they could hear Mrs. Weasley's voice shout up the stairs, "Hermione! Dinner is ready!"

Hermione sighed and withdrew her hands from Ron's back. She leaned back against the door and stared up at Ron, whose eyes mirrored the disappointment she felt.

"Shall we go down then?" she asked.

"Who needs food?" Ron growled, dipping his head to kiss her again, but she stopped him by putting a finger to his lips.

"Do my ears deceive me?" she asked, grinning, "Ronald Bilius Weasley, wanting to skip dinner? The Apocalypse has arrived."

Ron furrowed his brow, "Apokylepse? What is that, one of Luna's creatures?"

Hermione chuckled, "I have much to teach you about the muggle world."

"Learning? That doesn't sound like my cup of tea."

Standing up on her toes, Hermione whispered in his ear, "Not the way I teach," then, with a wink and a smile, Hermione deactivated the spells she set and disappeared through the door.

"Bloody hell," she heard him mutter as she began down the stairs, and then he poked his head out of his door and shouted after her, "You don't play fair, Hermione!"

She stopped and turned around grinning, "I guess you're rubbing off on me, eh?"

Ron leaned against his doorframe and smiled back at her, "I love you, you know that right?"

The air between them sparked for a moment, before Hermione replied, "I love you too, Ron," then she turned around and continued down the stairs, "Now hurry up, your mother is probably wondering what's taking us."

X

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Author's Note: Cutsie stuff, sorry I couldn't help it. The characters made me do it! Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny bullied me into this, they can't go for any period of time together without cracking jokes and making serious moments into something else entirely: call it the Weasley curse (I consider Hermione and Harry Weasleys). Anyhow, I laughed writing this. This is exactly how I imagine both couples would say I love you, none of them are known for being big romantics. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did.

ANOTHER Author's note: Oh me and my insatiable need to publish my newest chapters quickly, without at least reading it five times. If you will refer to jesrod82's last review (y'all should still read her work, if you haven't), I put poor Ron saying lunch when it was really dinner time. Though I would love to pretend that it was his mistake and not mine, I cannot. The error has been fixed, thank you again Jessica!


	18. Bellatrix Returns

Hermione stopped short, her breath caught in her throat, and her heart stopped for a moment before resuming its beating at a newly frantic pace.

There, standing in the entryway of the Burrow, was a tall woman with thick dark hair and dark eyes. She was talking to someone just out of view with a slight smile on her thin lips. Hermione knew this was no Boggart.

_Bellatrix Lestrange, _she thought in a panic, Hermione tried back up the stairs, but accidently stepped on her robes in her haste, and fell backwards. She sat up as quickly as she could and thrust a shaking hand into her robes, searching frantically for her wand and feeling her heart drop when she remembered that it wasn't there. It was on Ron's nightstand: too far away: several floors too far away.

Bellatrix looked up the staircase with an oddly curious look on her face: to Hermione it seemed vicious and bloodthirsty.

"No, no, no, no," Hermione whimpered quietly, trying to crawl backwards up the stairs without taking her eyes off the woman that was the source of so much pain and suffering, one who had caused so much death and torture, "Please…" she searched in her robes once again for her wand, still finding nothing, "Please, No, no, no."

Bellatrix tilted her head and furrowed her brow, "What…?"

The person she had been talking to stepped forward and peaked around the corner: it was Harry. His glasses were slightly crooked on the bridge of his nose, but he otherwise seemed unfazed by being so near to the woman who had killed his godfather, "Hermione?" He followed her gaze to Bellatrix, and sudden understanding came across his face. He moved around Bellatrix and started up the stairs, but only after reassuringly patting her on the shoulder.

He came up to Hermione and kneeled in front of her, blocking her view of Bellatrix, "Hermione," he said quietly, putting a hand supportively on hers, "It's alright Hermione, let's go upstairs, yeah?"

She didn't answer him, unable to put thoughts together or understand why he was saying it was okay that Bellatrix Lestrange was in the Burrow or why he touched her shoulder as if comforting a friend, but allowed herself to be helped to her feet and led up the winding staircase. Just as they passed the fourth floor, they met Ron who was on his way down.

"Harry, didn't you hear mum? Dinner's re-… Hermione, bloody hell are you alright?" when she didn't answer him, or even look up, he turned to Harry heatedly, "What in the hell happened?"

"She saw Andromeda," Harry replied, when Ron still looked at him with confusion, he continued in a hushed tone, "She thought she was Bellatrix."

Ron nodded in sudden understanding, he had known Andromeda for a while- she and Mrs. Weasley were good friends- and the resemblance between the sisters had become less and less apparent to him, "Where are you going?" He glanced at Hermione in worry; he hadn't ever seen her look so fragile before, except for that day he had pulled her out from underneath the crystal chandelier at Malfoy Manor.

"We're going to talk."

"I'll talk to her; you can go back down to dinner."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, then turned back to Ron, "No, Ron, listen… I know what she needs to hear right now."

"And how do you know that?" Ron snapped.

"I just… I just do alright? Just go downstairs and… and lie. Say Hermione got sick or something, and that I'm helping her."

Ron stared at Harry hard, battling whether or not to argue further or to do as Harry said.

"Please, Ron, I'm the only one that at least understands some of what she's been through. Trust me on this one."

Ron continued to stare at Harry for a moment, then conceded with a sharp nod and made his way down the staircase after squeezing Hermione's shoulder gently.

In the short conversation between the two of them, Hermione hadn't heard any of what they had said. It all sounded muffled and distant behind the repeated sound of Bellatrix's manic voice screaming "Crucio!" over and over again in her ears.

Harry pulled her into Ron's room and closed the door behind him, then he grabbed her arm again and gently forced her to sit down on Ron's bed, and pulled the chair from under the desk and sat down facing her. She still didn't look at him, but instead stared down at her hands- for the first time becoming aware enough to notice that they were shaking violently.

"She's dead, Hermione," Harry said quietly, she could feel his green eyes trying to meet hers, but she refused to look up.

"That was Andromeda," He said, there was a little more strength in his voice, and he moved his chair a little closer so that their knees were almost touching, he put his hands on his knees and continued to watch her carefully, "I was fooled by how much she looks like Bellatrix, twice. When I first met her, and when I walked in just now. I almost hexed her; thank god that she had Teddy in her arms or I wouldn't have realized…" Hermione still didn't respond, so he continued as if they were having a normal conversation, "Mrs. Weasley invited her to dinner. Hermione, Teddy as grown so much. He looks just like his parents…" Harry paled slightly, thinking about the parents that Teddy Lupin would never know, "They would have made such great parents…"

"The best," Hermione replied in a small voice. She closed her eyes, willing her hands to stop shaking, her mind to stop racing, her heart to slow back to its normal pace, and her breathing to calm. _Calm down,_ she thought to herself, _just calm down. It's okay, there's no danger now. Breathe_.

Harry seemed to take comfort in that she was actually responding to him, and continued, "Wait until you see him Hermione. I think he's changed his hair at least five times since they got here. He got really confused looking when he saw my glasses, but then smiled really big, took them off my face, put them upside down on his, and turned his hair black," Hermione could hear the note of pride in his voice as he said, "I'm going to like being a godfather."

"You'll be a great one, Harry," she replied distantly, still with her eyes closed tightly and her bushy brown hair falling over her face.

Then she said something so quietly that Harry had to lean forward and ask, "What did you say?"

After taking a deep and shaky breath, Hermione tucked her hair behind her ears and opened her eyes, meeting his, "How do you get through it?"

"I- I don't know," Harry ran his hand back through his messy black hair, making it possibly even wilder, "I suppose a lot of it's got to do with Ginny…"

Hermione nodded, thinking about Ron and how much of a comfort he had been in the last couple of days, even though he probably didn't realize it. She vividly remembered hearing his voice screaming from the cellar at Malfoy Manor, until she drowned it out with her own screams, "That day won't leave me, Harry. No matter what I do, it won't leave me."

He didn't have to ask what day she was talking about, "It won't ever leave you," he replied softly, "None of this is likely to leave any of us… you were so strong, I don't think any of us would have been able to lie like that, had it been us that Bellatrix…"

"Tortured," Hermione finished bitterly, "To be honest, I'm glad that it was me, because at least it wasn't you or Ron. I knew that the longer I could stay alive, the better chance you and Ron would have. I didn't have much hope of making it out alive."

Harry listened to her carefully; unlike Ron, she knew that Harry understood what it was like to think you were going to die, with no hope whatsoever in making it out alive.

Harry and Hermione had always had a strong connection; she would hug him without thinking about it, touch his shoulder fondly, or even kiss him on the cheek, ever since she had become friends with him. She knew that Ron had believed that there had been something more between her and Harry, but there never was. Even thought they had shared something special in the time that Ron was gone, that Ron would never be a part of, it hadn't changed anything. They were two best friends, both had grown up in the Muggle world, and they had an inexplicable understanding of each other, but their relationship was much like that of a brother and sister, Hermione never even considered it being more, and neither had he.

"You were brilliant, Hermione."

"Thanks," she wiped her eyes with her sleeve after just realizing there were tears there, "I don't feel so brilliant right now. I completely lost it when I saw Andromeda. She must think I'm mental…"

Harry reached out and squeezed Hermione's hand before dropping it again, he gave her a crooked smile and said, "Well, if she thinks you're mental, I'd hate to what she thinks about me; considering I yelled at her when I first met her."

The ghost of a smile tugged at Hermione's lips, "Did you really?"

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, tried to pull out my wand and hex her, too. Lucky Ted Tonks had it."

"She's lucked out three times then," she leaned over and snatched her wand off of Ron's side table, "I left mine up here. I thought for sure that- that she would- that I- that-"

Harry moved from his chair to sit next to her; he wrapped an arm around her and embraced her tightly. He pretended not to notice that his shoulder was growing damp from her tears, and spoke quietly of unimportant things, like a joke that Ginny had made, or how good breakfast had been that morning, or how he was longing to ride a broomstick again.

X

Hermione had stopped crying long before Ron came upstairs, and when he walked into the room with his thoughts racing with worry, Hermione was smiling faintly and telling a story about her mum and dad while she rested her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry had an arm around her, and seemed quite content listening to her stories.

Ron stood at the doorway for a few moments, watching his two best friends who had yet to notice his arrival. He stood on the edge between jealousy and satisfaction. He was more at ease now that he saw that Hermione was alright and recovered from whatever it was that had happened to her, but he was wildly envious that Harry was the one who had helped her; that Harry was the one who had comforted her; that it was Harry, and not him, who had his arm around her.

"-and then my mum said- oh hello, Ron," Hermione sat up, tucked a renegade curly strand of hair behind her ear and smiled softly at him.

Harry looked up at Ron and gave him a nod. The nod told Ron all he needed to know: she's okay, but keep an eye on her, I'm still worried. Ron returned the nod, indicating that Harry had no need to worry about him not keeping an eye on her.

Ron lifted the one plate of food he was carrying, "Mum sent me up with food for both of you, but Ginny stole your plate, Harry she said something about holding it hostage. She's in her room, so unless you want to starve to death…"

Chuckling, Harry stood and strode over to the door, "Thanks mate, I'll go see what is that she wants," then after smiling over his shoulder once more at Hermione, he walked past Ron and started down the stairs. The sound of his footsteps hadn't yet faded away when Ron closed the door and made his way over to Hermione.

He handed the plate to her and sat down on the bed where Harry had been. The bed springs creaked in complaint at his added weight.

"Thanks," she told him, but then she set the plate on the bedside table, "I'm not hungry, sorry- I've just lost my appetite is all."

Ron nodded and vanished the plate and the food on it with a flick of his wand.

"Andromeda… did she say anything?" Hermione asked, concerned.

He shook his head, "No… well, she did say that she was sorry you weren't feeling well, but I think she was too busy trying to keep Teddy under control to really care all that much," he grinned, "He is some kid, Teddy is. It's weird having a baby around- last time I was around a kid that young- hell- I don't even remember."

"I can't wait to meet him… I wish I hadn't… reacted the way I did. It was foolish, I- I'm sorry I worried you, Ron."

The sincerity in her voice surprised him; Ron couldn't fathom why she would be apologizing, "I get it, Hermione. She looks a hell-of-a-lot like Bellatrix. You can pretend all you want that you aren't scared by what happened, but I know you are. You don't need to apologize to me."

Hermione shook her head, "I was so frightened. That day at the Malfoy's… I was sure I was going to die. It hurt so badly that I... I wanted to die, just so it would be over."

Ron was taken aback she was finally talking about it, and when he hadn't even asked or expected it. He didn't speak for fear that she would stop talking.

"But I kept remembering what Bellatrix said before you were brought down to the cellar, that when I died she would take you next. I couldn't bear to let that happen. The whole time I kept telling myself, 'you have to lie, you have to stay alive, you have to give them time to escape,' over and over again in my head. I didn't believe I would live to escape. And when Bellatrix was questioning Griphook, before I lost consciousness, I remember wondering which death I'd prefer: one by Bellatrix or by Greyback.

"I remember meeting eyes with him before the first Cruciatus curse came… the look on his face still gives me nightmares," she let out a shaky breath, "I saw what he did to Bill, but I knew just knew he would do worse to me… but even then, I don't know if it would have been worse than the pain of the Cruciatus…" she looked over at Ron with tear filled eyes, "I just imagined, even after the fact, that I might go mad. I wouldn't be able to learn, or read, or really live if I lost my mind, and my mind has always been the most important thing to me. And I could feel myself losing it, the entire time, the more powerful the curse became when she got angrier; it felt that even if I did make it out alive… that I might not even be _me_ anymore. When you've told me, that I not the Hermione you know, that I seem cold, and unfeeling, I- I've wondered that if I really have gone a bit mad…"

Without even thinking about it, Ron took her face in both of his hands and told her firmly, "You're not mad. You're Hermione, you're perfectly fine. You're too damn smart for anything to be wrong with your head," He let his hands drop back into his lap, "I'm sorry, about all I said, before."

She shook her head again, "You were right though; I don't act like I used to anymore. It's like I left a little part of me… back there. It's just so hard to get it back, Ron, and today-" she sniffed and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve, "today, I thought I was going back to that day, that it was all going to happen again. I truly did feel insane. Maybe a little part of me is…"

Unwilling to talk about the idea any further, Ron enveloped her in a tight embrace, pulling her as close to him as he could and burying his face in her bushy brown hair, "I was so scared, Hermione. When she had you- I couldn't get out- I tried to dissapperate but I didn't have a wand- all I could hear was you screaming over and over again and I couldn't even do anything…"

She encircled him with her arms and hugged him still closer, "I know. There were times when she stopped to curse that I could hear you… I know."

Neither of them knew, or cared, how long they sat there with their arms around each other. They were hardly aware when they laid down in the small bed beside each other, or that they fell asleep there on top of the covers, fully clothed. All they knew is that they couldn't be alone.

X

X

Author's Note: Oh the angsty sadness. I have oh-so-much planned for this story, but the angst and sadness must happen. Good on you all who have caught my little hints about what is to come; I shall not dissapoint. I have re-read this chapter multiple times, I think I caught everything, but when I downloaded it, fanfiction deleted all of my dashes and wouldn't let me replace them, so I am stuck with wimpy little hyphens for dashes; how terribly sad, I know. If there is a spot that it looks like there should be a wimpy-little-hyphen-for-dash, just let me know: I think I put them all in on the document editor, but I am not 100% sure. Tell fanfiction that it should let me use real dashes, they are much more imposing, and also more grammatically correct, which I enjoy. Point out any mistakes you find, and I will fix them if I deem it necessary (I will also give you a nice little shout-out to you if I do change it- there's so extra incentive for you); thank you again to all my reviewers, do what you do best my fellows: review.


	19. Speaking Looks

Author's note: I'd like to make note that, although this is titled as a Ron and Hermione fan fiction- and that is the majority of this fan fiction- it is not all about them, one hundred percent of the time, just like J.K. Rowling does not solely focus on Harry and Ginny's relationship. This is the aftermath; everyone is effected by the war. I will go to George, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and whoever else however the story dictates I should (yes, I do mean how the story dictates. At times, I feel no more than a vessel for my writing to come through). Many a fan fiction almost entirely drops poor Harry, except for when they need someone to walk in on Hermione and Ron in an intimate moment, or interrupt them before they can get to said intimate moment. Now, I can accept Harry being the unwilling and unfortunate spoilsport as much as the next person, on occasion, but I love Harry Potter. He has a great friendship with Ron and Hermione, and I'm not going to ignore that relationship he has with them just because Hermione and Ron are in a romantic relationship. Long live the golden friendship of the trio. Rant over, time for the story. Tarry not, oh faithful keyboard.

X

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Ron awoke to a sharp pain in his shin.

He rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around groggily for the cause of the pain on his leg.

Harry's bed was empty, and looked just the same as it had the morning before, betraying the fact that Harry Potter had not slept in his own bed that night. Ron resolved, even in his dazed state, to put hexing Harry into oblivion on his to-do list for that day; perhaps Hermione would even have a spell he could use.

Hermione.

He suddenly became aware that another body was next to him on his bed; he glanced over and saw Hermione's unique bushy brown hair sprawled over his pillow and covering her face. She was lying on her side, facing him.

A smile stretched across Ron's face at the realization that he had slept in the same bed with Hermione Granger; that her head was on _his_ pillow. He quite abruptly was overcome with the urge to just touch her; as silently as he could, Ron reached over and set a tentative hand on her shoulder.

Unexpectedly, she turned onto her back, and Ron drew his hand away quickly. Her hair fell away from her face and revealed the thin layer of sweat that covered it. Her brow was furrowed in a painful expression, and she let out a small whimper before kicking at the air; Ron suspected this was the cause of the bruise forming on his shin. When she whimpered again, he gripped her shoulder again and shook her gently.

"Hermione," he whispered. Hermione opened her mouth and released a moan, he could barely make out the word 'no'.

Ron shook her again, "Hermione," he said a bit louder, "Hermione, wake up. It's a dream."

Without warning, Hermione's eyes snapped open; before Ron could say a word, she snatched her wand off of the bedside table.

"Stupefy!"

Ron's eyes went wide when he saw the spell coming his way, and then everything went black.

X

X

"Rennervate."

Ron groaned as he regained consciousness, when Hermione saw that he was waking, she flooded him with apologies, "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry. It was just an automatic reaction, I didn't mean to I swear."

Groaning again, Ron opened his eyes and found himself lying on the floor, several feet from his bed. He became uncomfortably aware of the aching on the entirety of his back and the back of his head, "S' okay 'ermione, just got thrown across my room by a stunning jinx at who knows what time in the morning. No biggie," he rubbed the back of his head tenderly, feeling the lump already forming there.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione repeated, looking down at her wand as if ashamed of it.

"Hey," he waited until she met his eyes, "really, it's no big deal. I was being sarcastic."

She smiled weakly, "Why were you trying to wake me up anyway?"

Ron looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, "I, uh… well you were making noises and kicking… I figured you were having a nightmare or something…"

Blood drained from her face, and she looked away once again, seeming to study the sparse bookcase behind him, "Oh… y-yes, I-… sometimes have those…"

"What about?" Try as he might to sound casual about the question, his voice wavered.

Her eyes hardened, and all emotion went from them as she looked up at him. That told him all that he needed to know.

"I have nightmares, too…" he shook his head, trying to shake the desolate feeling of seeing his older brother dead, and the helpless feeling of hearing Hermione's screams while he could do nothing about it, "But they'll go away soon, for both of us, right?"

"Right," Ron wished that her voice sounded more assured.

They sat there in silence for a while, the rising sun cast fresh rays of light into the room.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione, I told you, I'm fine-"

"No, not about that… it's just that… I'm sorry, that I don't have any answers… I hate-… I hate being a failure."

"You're not a-"

"No? Well I feel like it when I don't have the answers for anything!" she ground her teeth roughly, her jaw tensed and her eyes became stony; "I'm supposed to know things. But now I can't remember the things I have read, so I don't know anything about magical twin separation. I don't know about dark magic traces. I don't know how long one will have nightmares after a traumatic experience. I don't know… Ron, I don't know anything!" she reached up and rubbed her temples with her eyes closed, "I'm just sorry that I am a failure."

"Hermione," Ron said, his voice low, "You're bloody mental if you think even for a second that you don't know anything. Hell, you know more than anyone I've ever met. You're not a failure for not to remembering something."

She assessed him for a long time with an icy gaze that before the war would have never shone itself in her eyes. He refused to look away, and fought down the anger that threatened to rise within him.

"Ok," she said blankly; Ron knew what she really said with those two syllables: _I don't believe you. _He couldn't remember anything she had ever said hurting him more, except for maybe the time that she had chosen Harry over him; even though she had had good reason, it had still hurt like hell.

Before he could open his mouth to argue, Hermione had gotten to her feet and headed towards the door, "I think I heard someone downstairs, I'm sure it's your mother starting breakfast…" before she walked out, she looked over her shoulder and met his eyes; the distant look at disappeared from her gaze, and was instead replaces with regret; her eyes told him what her voice could not: _I'm sorry that I can't be more for you._

His stomach dropped as she disappeared through the doorway. Anger did not exist in that moment, and all he wished to do was to pull her back and tell her that she was everything, and more, for him.

X

X

"I'm going to Australia, to go get my parents."

Ron's fork clattered to his plate, and the rest of those at the table stared at Hermione in surprised silence; she didn't look up from her plate, and held her fork clenched tightly in her fist.

"But dear, with all the Death Eaters that haven't been caught…" Mrs. Weasely's voice trailed off weakly, since the death of her son, she had seemingly lost the natural fight that she had always had in her, and her voice was dull- joyless. Only on occasion, since Fred's funeral, did her old personality shine through. She seemed even more distant ever since Charlie had left for Romania, George had moved back into his flat, Percy had gone to his own home, and Bill and Fleur had gone back to Shell Cottage the day before. The Burrow had never before seemed so empty.

"I know," Hermione herded her beans around her plate with her spoon, "but, I need to tell them. I need-" she stopped herself from saying 'I need them back', and instead said, "I need to let them be them again."

"I'll go with you."

Hermione's head snapped up in shock, "Ron, you don't need-"

Ron interrupted her, "Anyone here have any objections?"

Mrs. Weasley looked as if she was going to say something, but changed her mind and busied herself with her plate.

"Son, Hermione, you shouldn't just go off by yourselves to Australia, with who knows how many dark wizards on the loose. Just look at how many Death Eaters showed up on our doorstep just two weeks ago," Mr. Weasley reasoned. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and as a result of the last year, his hairline had receded significantly.

"Mr. Weasley, I have to go get my parents," Hermione replied, her voice almost pleading.

"We could send someone from the Ministry to reverse the spell and bring them back."

She shook her head, "I'm sorry, but after all that I have put them through, it wouldn't be fair for them to be given their memories back, and have to have everything explained by a complete stranger. I couldn't do that to them, not after… everything."

A vivid picture of Bellatrix standing over her flashed in front of Hermione's eyes. The woman's eyes were bulging and wild with sadistic glee as she cast the Cruciatus curse over and over and…

"Hermione?" Mr. Weasley said loudly and with concern, his voice snapped Hermione's mind back to the present.

"Sorry?"

"I was saying that I understand why you want to, but I couldn't let you go with a good conscience if you went without the proper protection."

Ron reached over and grabbed Hermione's hand reassuringly, "Dad, we spent a year on the run when You-Know-Who had control of the Ministry, just Harry, me, and Hermione. We would be fine by ourselves-"

Mr. Weasley held up a hand to gently quiet his son, "I know, and had I had my way I would have had the entire Order of the Phoenix as your personal body guards last year, but we all accepted that you three had a mission that no others could know about, no matter how much we didn't like it," he looked from Ron, to Harry, to Hermione, "and rest assured, we did not like it. But we trusted you, and because of it we are free of You-Know-Who. No one can even begin to thank you three for that. But now, it is time for you to trust me, as I trusted you. I think it is wise that you go to Australia with guards, not only to keep you safe, but to help you locate your parents as well, so that you aren't blundering about blindly through the entire country. "

Hermione nodded her assent, and signaled for him to continue.

He replied with a warm smile that only seemed to make his face look more worn, "Tomorrow, when I go to the Ministry, I'd like you to go to with me, Hermione. We can go to Kingsley and begin scheduling when this can take place. Rest assured, despite being the new Minister, Kingsley will make time for you, he told me as much. He understands as well as I do the debt that we owe you three."

Hermione glanced over at Ron, who was gaping at his father as if he had never seen him before.

She turned back to Mr. Weasley, "I think that's a great idea, Mr. Weasley, thank you so much. It really does mean a lot to me."

He smiled again and looked to Ron, whose expression had not changed, "What about you, Ron?"

Ron shook his head slightly, "Well, when you say all that, how can we say anything else be yes? Jeeze, Dad, you bloody- sorry mum- backed us into a corner there."

Mr. Weasley grinned mischievously, and he never looked so much like Ron before to Hermione than he did in that moment.

"What about you, Harry?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes betrayed a nervousness that was very rarely seen on her face, "Are you going with them?"

He smiled at her, "No, I don't think I am. They won't be long, and I want to be here with you…" he suddenly seemed to realize that there were others in the room, and blushed, "…all… to help out when you all need it," he looked over at Ron and Hermione, "Unless you two need me?"

Ron huffed sarcastically, "We'll be fine, if dad has his way, we'll have the whole damn Auror Department surrounding us. And with Kingsley as Minister of Magic, you'll be damn sure that he'll have his way. We'll be fine," he gave Harry a meaningful look that added: _but if you so much as touch my sister, I'll kill you._

"If you say so," Harry winked, and Ron knew what he meant: _Good luck keeping an eye on me when you're all the way in bloody Australia._

Hermione, knowing the two boys and their looks as long as they had known at each other, glared at them both: _you're both so stupid._

Ron waggled an eyebrow challengingly; _But at least I am oh, so irresistible._

Harry rolled his eyes; _get a room,_ his expression said.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at the trio in confusion, not understanding the various expressions between them; finally they looked to Ginny, who shrugged and said, "Don't look at me; I'm only just learning to translate it."

X

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Author's note: Thank you again for all of the reviews, they mean more than I can figure to say. I must make comment however, that Dr C. Crowseph's review is the best compliment I have ever received for my writing; "Bravo sir, you are truly a Duke among peasants stained in their own feces, writhing with indignity in a pile of animal dung. Shine on," that comment completely made my life. So thank you to Dr C. Crowseph.

I truly love the relationship between Hermione, Ron, and Harry. I did my very best to do justice to their friendship and J.K. Rowling's depiction of it.

I always say that characters of whatever piece I am writing control my writing more than I do, this is the case with this fan fiction. Every time I write, I feel Hermione breathing over my shoulder and pointing out all of my mistakes, Ron making crude jokes, and Harry telling me how things should or shouldn't happen. I try to tell them that I am more than capable of handling it, but they don't quite believe me, and persist to make changes whenever they fancy to.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you think.


	20. Row More

"You're what?"

Hermione didn't look up as she magically cleaned all of the plates at the table. Everyone else had left the kitchen: Mrs. Weasley to her room, Mr. Weasley to the Ministry, and Harry and Ginny to the garden. Only Ron remained after Hermione had offered to clean up.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts, when it starts up again," she replied casually, with a flick of her wand, the plates shot into their respective places in the kitchen cabinets.

"What in the hell would you do that for?" Hermione inwardly winced at the anger in his voice; she knew that this wouldn't be easy. She busied herself with cleaning the table; she hadn't much practice with cleaning spells- mentally she added it to her ever-growing list of things to do-, so she could justify taking her sweet time with it.

"You wouldn't understand, Ron. I just have to."

"Try me."

She sighed and looked up from her work, "I can't leave my schooling unfinished."

"Sure you can," Ron waved his arms in frustration; "Kingsley has a job ready for all of us anytime we want it. He told you that right?"

"Yes, _Ronald,_ he did inform me of that. It was never my dream to become an Auror. I've had enough of fighting."

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron shook his head in disbelief, "Do you honestly think that you couldn't get any job you wanted?"

Hermione ground her teeth and fought desperately to keep calm and collected, "No, I don't honestly think that I couldn't get any job I wanted. In fact, I am fairly sure I could get a wide variety of jobs, but I am going back to Hogwarts, because _that _is what is important to me. I want to finish my education, Ron. I have so much to learn, still."

He opened his mouth to speak again, but she cut him off, "And you know what, Ron? I don't really appreciate the way you're talking to me," She stood up straight and made her away around the table to where Ron stood- he looked a bit nervous and surprised by her sudden wrath. She felt her calm melting away like snow.

"Ronald Weasley, I can do whatever I _bloody _want with my life," she jabbed at his chest with a finger, "And don't look so smug because I cursed, at least I don't use that word as part of my hourly vocabulary. Now, I know how much you want me to go into the Auror Department, like you and Harry, or at least stay close by instead of being gone for a year. But you. Need. To. Grow. Up," she punctuated every word with a poke on his chest. Ron was looking bewildered.

"And another thing, _Ron_. Going to school is important to me; I would think that you would know that about me by now. I expect you to respect that, _even if_ you don't like it. Got it?" Even as she spoke, she could hear how high-pitched her voice had become, and could feel that her eyes had become wild.

To her astonishment, a smile stretched across Ron's freckled face. His blue eyes sparkled.

"And what exactly are you smiling about?"

Instead of answering her, Ron grabbed her by the hand and started at a fast pace towards the stairs, pulling her behind him.

"Where are you going? Let go of me! Where are you taking me? _Ronald!"_

He didn't answer her, but kept pulling her up the stairs, a smile still on his face. He didn't say anything at all until he had pulled her into his room and closed the door.

"Ron! What are you…" she trailed off when he pressed her against his- sadly devoid of any worthwhile literature- bookshelf, with a hand on either side of her head. He smiled dazzlingly at her.

"Keep talking," he said.

"What… what are you talking about?" Hermione found it very difficult to hold on to her anger. She was almost sad at feeling it slip away.

"What you were saying before, go on."

"Well I-… Ron I can't focus like this… why did you bring me up here?"

If possible, his smile widened, "You were yelling at me again, starting a row, Hermione, a _row_."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione's voice became breathy as she tried to keep her mind of the situation she was in: pressed up against a bookshelf- though it didn't have enough books for her taste, it would do. She tried desperately to look everywhere but his excited blue eyes or the shirt he had on, on which two buttons had come loose.

"A _row_, Hermione," he repeated, as if the word itself was a sufficient explanation, when no look of comprehension came across her face, he continued, "A good, old fashioned, traditional, _row._ Everything has been so wrong, for so long… and now you're yelling at me. I would have yelled back, just to keep the row going, but I want you so much now that I couldn't do it."

After a sharp intake of breath, Hermione met his eyes, along with excitement, and happiness, she saw lust; "You want me?"

He nodded seriously, "More than you know."

She bit her lip, "Keep talking," she said, repeating what he had said just moments before.

His brow twitched slightly in surprise, and his voice became husky as he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "When you were yelling at me, all I could think about was just how much I wanted to touch you. It was all I could do not to push you up against the kitchen counter."

Hermione couldn't suppress letting out a small moan. Ron chuckled and continued, "But you see, I didn't think mum would appreciate me groping you in the kitchen, yeah?" He placed a light kiss on her neck, directly under her ear: it was a spot that he had joyously discovered drove her crazy.

"Yeah," she partly moaned, "she probably wouldn't enjoy that too much."

She intertwined her hands in his red hair, "We should row more often," she pulled him to her lips eagerly.

"That's what I'm saying," he mumbled against her mouth.

Ron's fingers fell to the bottom button of her blouse at the same moment that hers began undoing the highest button of his shirt that had been so frustratingly distracting.

Without a moment's hesitation or contemplation, the two of them had each removed the shirt from the other. Hermione let her hands roam the contour of his broad back, and gasped when she felt his hand wander to her breast.

"I already told you that I love you, right?" Ron asked as he kneaded her gently.

She groaned contently, "Yeah, I think you mentioned it. But don't worry too terribly much if you accidently repeat it a few more times, I can handle it."

"Oh good," Ron replied, returning his mouth to her neck, "I was worried about that.

X

X

Author's Note: Cutesie. Cutesie. Cutesie. I don't write 'cute' things… well apparently I do, but I don't do it if I don't have to… Ron and Hermione are making me. I blame Ron mostly… does it make me crazy that I could hear him asking me, "So… when am I going to get some action here? Or are you having us all mope for the rest of our lives?" and then there's Hermione saying, "Honestly, you can't keep your hands off of me as it is, now you want her to write us snogging every five seconds in her fan fiction?" "Yeah, you pretty much got that spot on, Hermione. So get on it Karissa."

Well I did it. Let's call this a rare treat for some of you, or- for people like me- a rare yanking-of-band-aid-off-of-a-fresh-wound moment.

Don't get me wrong… I liked this chapter, but… I don't write 'cute' things… at least they weren't hopelessly cheesy… I do cheesy less than I do cute.


	21. Ministry Order

The Ministry was in ruins.

Death Eaters, when Voldemort fell and before anyone could regroup and set to taking back control of the Ministry, had rushed in and destroyed its once pristine halls in an act of vengeance. It had already been two weeks and two days since the final battle had been won, and still there were gashes in the walls above the fireplaces, each laced with dark magic that Magical Maintenance was working painstakingly to remove. Each of the gouges spelled out obscene words or phrases, but the only one that Hermione had time to read before Mr. Weasley pulled her away was: "Magic is Might, death to all Muggles, Mudbloods, and Blood Traitors," Hermione shivered in disgust as the words ran through her mind; she would never understand how anyone could hate someone for the way they were born.

It also made her even more proud to be considered the brightest witch of her age; just so she could spite those who thought being a muggle-born meant you were nothing.

She was relieved that the Magic is Might statue had been removed, and almost just as relieved that the Fountain of Magical Brethren had not yet been re-erected. She had seen it when they had made their way to the Department of Mysteries in fifth year, and had been exceptionally bothered at how the Centaur, Goblin, and House Elf looked up at the wizards in suppliant adoration. It represented harmony in wizard dominance: she thought that it hadn't been much better than the Magic is Might statue, but it had been far more subtle about it. She hoped that she would one day see the day when all creatures had the rights they deserved, and maybe then there would be a statue that she would love to see in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

It was an early Monday morning, and many witches and wizards were flooding the Atrium through the fireplaces, all ready to begin their day at work. She and Mr. Weasley had come through the visitor's entrance, and had to stand in a substantial line behind the large number of muggle-borns that had come to file claims for replacements of their wands and property that had been taken by the Ministry under the Death-Eater regime.

"I'll need to stop by my Department first, if that's alright," Mr. Weasley told her as he guided her through the forming crowd and into an empty lift, "Perkins owled me this morning; apparently we are being flooded with reports of misuse of muggle artifacts… apparently a group of teenagers got wind that Saterday was the muggle 'Wear Purple for Peace Day'- muggles have the strangest holidays- and charmed every purple article of muggle clothing within London to change into shining purple robes as soon as they were put on. It would be charming if the Office of Improper Use of Magic hadn't had to do so much clean-up. My office doesn't have too much to do with it, but Perkins said that Gordon is insisting that it is under our jurisdiction: rubbish if you ask me, but I have to set it straight before we go to Kingsley."

"That's perfectly fine," Hermione smiled, studying the flying memos in the lift with interest, each time that she had been there before, she had been too tense to notice much of anything but the task at hand. She was perfectly content to go wherever Mr. Weasley wanted her to go, so long a she wasn't worried about being led into a trap by Voldemort, or worried about when Polyjuice potion would wear off and how in the world they were going to find Umbridge before it did.

The lift lurched to a halt on the second level, and Hermione shuffled out behind Mr. Weasley, keeping her eyes on his red hair to avoid the astonished eyes of those she passed. She realized now, the scrutiny that Harry had undergone for seven years; now, Hermione and Ron weren't known as 'Harry Potter's friends' but celebrities in their own right. She didn't like it, but thought with a smile how Ron would probably bask in the glory of it. He has always wanted to be more than just the sixth Weasley son.

Hermione didn't care for popularity; which was why she had never been bothered by the many taunts of Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and a number of other pathetic antagonists. Ron and Harry had always jumped to her defense, but she never had cared much what others thought of her, it just didn't matter. All she wanted in life was good friends, a good family, knowledge, and to change the world. She smiled to herself, realizing that she had all of that.

"Wait, Mr. Weasley, I thought you were promoted from Misuse of Muggle Artifacts to the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects?" Hermione asked as they moved down the large corridor of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

He chuckled, "Never forget a thing, do you Hermione? Not even that mouthful of a name? Yes, I did get promoted to that; but the Death Eaters killed Brubler, my replacement as head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, so Kinglsey asked if I would mind taking over both offices until he got things settled. I don't mind at all; I miss Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, it wasn't the most glamorous job, but I enjoyed it… ah, here we are."

A thin, ash wood door, no more than two feet in width, stood seemingly squashed between the two more ornate and practical doors of the Improper Use of Magic Office and the Department of Intoxicating Substances. Craved shoddily into the top of the door were the words 'Improper Use of Magic Offi', the last 'ce' had been left off because there was simply no room on the door. Mr. Weasley pulled open the door for her and gestured for her to enter.

"It's a bit of a squeeze, I'm afraid," He said as he side-stepped through the door after her, "it will open up more once we get through the hallway. Our office used to be at the dead end of the corridor, but I'm afraid that the Death Eaters trashed it beyond repair, so they had to put the office here for the time being. I don't mind though, this office is bigger."

Hermione was glad that she wasn't any wider, or else she would have to walk sideways through the narrow hallway as Mr. Weasley was. As it was, her arms were nearly touching both walls as she moved forward.

Finally, they came to the office itself; at about ten feet by ten feet, the small office would have been a relief to enter after the small hallway, had it not already had three people in it, all arguing loudly and trying to maneuver around two desks and several filing cabinets that lined the walls.

"Now listen here Gordon," an elderly wizard with fluffy and somewhat chaotic white hair, who Hermione could only assume was Mr. Weasley's assistant, Perkins, barked at another wizard with slicked down black hair and hawk-like brown eyes, "I'm telling you, this does not fall under our jurisdiction. This is for you and the Magical Law Enforcement to handle."

The harsh looking wizard named Gordon gritted his teeth, "This has to do with muggle clothing, it obviously is under your jurisdiction; this is the only thing your department is useful for, so do your damn job."

In-between the two wizards who were shouting over her head, a small witch with unruly grey hair stood, trying to make peace between them. Hermione instantly recognized her as Mafalda Hopkirk, a witch from the Improper Use of Magic Office; the very same witch who Hermione had impersonated when they had infiltrated the Ministry.

A surprisingly powerful voice came from her as she shouted above the two other wizards, "Come now! We are all from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! This is not the time to be bickering amongst ourselves! Oh Arthur! Thank god you're here, can you please settle this matter so we can get back to our work?" She shot Gordon and Perkins each a glare, and then fixed a pleading look on Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley smiled, "Of course Mafalda, I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. We had to go through the visitor's entrance. After this, Hermione here and I plan on speaking to the Minister."

The other three wizards seemed to just notice that Hermione was in the room, and turned to her in surprise.

Perkins jumped forward and began shaking her hand eagerly, "Ms. Granger, I've read all about you in the Prophet... amazing things you did for us… thank you so much… it's an honor, an absolute honor."

Hermione nodded and smiled at him, unsure of what to say to him and glad that he stepped back away without caring that she hadn't said anything. She was baffled by his reaction; no one had acted that way towards her in her entire life.

Gordon stared at her in vague interest, his hawk eyes appraising her unhurriedly, and showed no hint of the same respect that Perkins had, but didn't show disrespect either. Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about his scrutiny. She was uncertain whether or not he would be an ally, or an enemy. He nodded at her in acknowledgement.

Mafalda smiled brightly at Hermione, the last thing she would have expected; "I am glad to finally properly meet you Ms. Granger. Is it strange to say that I am honored you impersonated me to infiltrate the Ministry?"

Hermione extended her hand and Mafalda shook it warmly, "Not strange at all," Hermione replied with a grin, "I'm just sorry we had to stun you to do it."

Mafalda waved her hand dismissively, "Not a problem my dear, I dare say it was worth it," she turned back to Mr. Weasley, "Now, Arthur, what do you think about this? My opinion is that I don't care whose jurisdiction it's under, so long as it gets taken care of. We all have enough to do, rebuilding this place, without bickering about who should or shouldn't take care of the paperwork on a silly prank."

Mr. Weasley looked from Gordon to Perkins with an unreadable expression on his face, and then broke into a smile, "You know what, Mafalda? You're right. We have much too much to do without pushing this on one or the other. Perkins, Gordon, how about you both take care of it together?" Perkins nodded submissively, and when Gordon opened his mouth to argue, Mr. Weasley gestured to the small room, "As you can see, Gordon, there aren't enough people in this office to take care of something that stretches across London, but since you are so intent on the Office of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts taking care of it…"

Gordon clamped his mouth shut and looked over at Mafalda hopefully, but when she said, "Rest assured, I will see to it that you get demoted to this very office if you try to argue it. We don't have time for this rubbish," he nodded and turned to Perkins.

"Very well, Perkins, shall we get started straightaway?"

Perkins nodded and smiled wearily, then the two wizards squeezed past Mr. Weasley and Hermione and made their way down the narrow hallway.

Mafalda ran her hand through her flyaway grey hair in a vain attempt to straighten it; the gesture reminded Hermione of Harry and his mess of raven black hair that steadfastly refused to tidy. She sighed, "Thank you, Arthur. Those two have been at it all morning. Gordon wouldn't even listen to me, and I'm his superior. If we could afford to lose him, I'd fire him for it. How is it that you had them calm and agreeing to work together in just a few moments?"

Mr. Weasley shrugged, but Hermione knew what Mafalda was talking about. He had an uncanny ability to calm everyone in a room, and for some reason that had intensified since the Final Battle. Losing a son had sobered him beyond recognition at times.

"I don't know," he said, "But I'm just glad it got handled quickly. Now if you will excuse me, I must grab some paperwork and then go to see the Minister."

Mafalda nodded, "Understood, I must get off to work as well, this has already taken up more time than I can afford. It was nice to meet you Hermione," and with that, she moved past them and down the hallway.

When he heard the door close, Mr. Weasley began opening various filing cabinets and flipping through their contents, muttering to himself as he went, "Where did that assistant of mine put that report? I'd be damned if Perkins would keep one thing organized correctly… ah ha!" He waved a piece of parchment in the air triumphantly, "I have to bring this report to Kingsley, thought I'd get it while we are here." He gestured towards the narrow hallway with a broad sweep of him arm, "Shall we go then?"

Hermione grinned and went out the door, waiting for a moment for Mr. Weasley to squeeze out behind her, and then the two began making their way to the Minister's office.

They got into a rickety lift once again, this time accompanied by other wizards and witches that paid little attention to who had gotten into the lift with them. They were in it for only a moment before the lift dropped them off at the first level, where the Minister for Magic's office was located.

Mr. Weasley led her down a grandiose corridor, with gilded ornate carvings covering the walls. It was obvious that this was the first place to be purged of the Death Eaters' vandalism.

When they finally came to the Minister's office, they found that an Auror was stationed on either side of wide iron double doors, and a stern looking woman with dark brown hair sat at a desk a few feet to the side of it. Her bright blue half-moon spectacles were drawn down to the tip of her nose as she intensely studied a thick book that lay out before her, and she occasionally would sketch a note in the margins as she read. Hermione already liked her.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," she said without looking up from her work, "Do you have an appointment with the Minister?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't, Gwen, but Kingsley-"

"Gwendolyn."

"What?"

She looked up from the book, her green eyes severe, "My name is Gwendolyn, not Gwen."

Mr. Weasley looked taken aback, "But Kingsley always calls you-"

"The Minister may call me whatever he likes, Mr. Weasley," she said, looking back down to her book, "But you may call me Gwendolyn. And if you don't have an appointment, you cannot see the Minister."

"Kingsley told me to come in whenever-"

"Mr. Weasley," she set down her quill and peered at him over her spectacles, "I know that you are friends with the Minister, but I am under strict orders to not let _anyone_ in unless they have an appointment."

"Gwendolyn, do you know who this is?" Mr. Weasley gestured towards Hermione, "This is Hermione Granger. She, Harry Potter, and my son Ronald Weasley are the reason Kingsley is Minister, and that You-Know-Who is dead."

Gwendolyn met Hermione's eyes, and said, "Thank you, Ms. Granger," her voice was thick with a deep sincerity that Hermione was surprised by. Then her eyes fell down to her book once more and her voice became sharp again, "But no matter who you are, you can't see the Minister without an appoint-"

A loud clatter came from the Minister's office that cut her off. The two Aurors sprang into action. Simultaneously, they pulled out their wands, wrenched the double doors of the office open, and dove in. There was only a few moments of muffled struggle before the two Aurors came out of the office again, dragging a ruffled and hollering Dolores Umbridge between them.

"You shall rue this day, Kingsley! You will need me! Just you wait! Unhand me you apes!" Her mousy hair stood in all directions as she struggled to escape the Aurors' iron grips. Instead of her usual green and pink attire, she wore a drab brown suit that was quite too small for her; the buttons strained and threatened to snap away.

Then, her gaze fell on Hermione.

"You!" She squealed. With an amazing amount of strength, she tore out of the Aurors' grips and sprang towards Hermione. She wrapped her pudgy hands around Hermione's neck before anyone could pull their wand and screamed, "This is all your fault! You… you nasty little Mudblood! All your fault! You will pay for this! You will be disciplined!"

Within a moment, the Aurors had torn Umbridge's hands away from Hermione and tied them behind her back with a silent spell. Still, she continued to scream, "Mark my words! You will be disciplined! Disciplined!" Hermione rubbed her neck and stared at the woman in disgust; she had never seen Umbridge so unhinged before.

Kingsley stepped out of his office, wearing brilliant red robes and seeming completely unperturbed by what was going on. Calmly, he told the Aurors, "Take her to Azkaban, see to it that her trial date is soon."

"Yes, Sir." The Aurors replied, then, each holding Umbridge by an arm, began pulling her towards the lift.

All the way she screamed, "Order! I want order! You will pay for this! I am Dolores Umbridge! I will not stand for this treatment! Unhand me! Unhand me I say! I am-" the lift closed, and her screams were muffled until they disappeared altogether.

Kingsley turned to Hermione and Mr. Weasley with a smile, "Hello, Arthur, Hermione, what brings you here?"

Before they could answer, Gwendolyn spoke up, "They wanted to see you, Minister, but they don't have an appointment."

Kingsley turned to his Senior Undersecretary, "Gwen, these two are welcome to see me whenever they like. I'm going to write up a list of everyone who is allowed to see me without an appointment. It will include Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, anyone from the Weasley family, and anyone from the Order of the Phoenix. I will write up a list of questions you are to ask them as well, so that you can tell if they are imposters or not."

Gwendolyn nodded, and looked down, looking uncharacteristically unsure and ashamed, until Kingsley placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said, "You did well, Gwen. You follow orders correctly, I like that. It's one of the many reasons I hired you."

She smiled brightly and replied, "Thank you, Minister," and then returned to her work with a new vigor.

Kingsley turned back to Hermione and Mr. Weasley, "Why don't you two step into my office? I can see you have things you would like to talk about."


	22. You're Alive

The Minister's office was modest, in comparison to what Hermione was expecting it would be. It consisted of a simple oak desk that commanded the center of the room, a high backed red chair behind the desk, two small chairs in front of it, three bookshelves that lined the walls, a filing cabinet, and a grand window that showed various places throughout the wizarding world.

Kingsley sat down in the red chair and beckoned for Hermione and Mr. Weasley to sit down. He looked nothing less than royalty as he sat in the simple room.

"May I ask why Dolores Umbridge was just dragged kicking and screaming out of your office, Minister?" Mr. Weasley asked with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Kingsley shook his finger, "Now, none of that Arthur. Unless you would like me to address you by Head of the Office of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts and the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, you'll call me Kingsley."

Mr. Weasley chuckled, "Alright Kingsley, so tell me, what was that all about?"

The Minister of Magic sighed heavily, his deep and calm voice sounded tired as he spoke, "She set up an appointment with me a week ago, but under a false name, for an interview for Senior Undersecretary. I had already hired Gwen, but I have been on the lookout for Umbridge ever since she disappeared on the second. She's so pompous that I suspected that she would apply for a job, so I decided to keep the interview, just in case it was her. Sure enough, it was. She came in here, having taken Polyjuice and looking like a young, thin blond woman. I recognized that it was her instantly, so I just kept her talking until the potion wore off."

"How did you know it was her?" Hermione asked.

Kingsley leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk, his deep, dark eyes met hers, "When you dislike someone long enough, you notice every minuscule mannerism that they have, and those are things that Polyjuice potion can't hide."

Involuntarily, Hermione shivered, thinking about how lucky she was that no one realized that she wasn't Mafalda, and that Harry had used the Imperious curse on everyone around her when she was posing as Bellatrix.

He sat back and smiled jovially, "So, what brings you here?"

Hermione cleared her throat, suddenly nervous at asking the Minister of Magic for a favor, "Uhm, well as you know, I… changed my parents' memories before Harry, Ron, and I went looking for…"

"Horcruxes," Kingsley finished for her, "Harry told me at least that much, although not as many details as I had hoped to receive. Go on."

"Yes, horcruxes. And I sent them to Australia, thinking that they were Wendell and Monica Wilkins, so that way they would be out of the way of danger and if… I died in the war… they could live happy lives. But the war is over now, and I want to restore their memories, as soon as possible."

"And that's where I come in," Mr. Weasley said, "I insisted that they- Ron is going as well- have protection, as well as help, when they go to Australia. I was hoping that you might have some resources that could help in this situation, I know that you are quite busy, but this is-"

Kingsley interrupted Mr. Weasley with a casual wave of his hand, and smiled brightly at Hermione, "Of course, of course I'll help you. There are Aurors that will be absolutely honored to escort you and Ron to Australia. I will look into it straightaway, and make sure a Portkey is made-"

Hermione jumped as Gwendolyn's voice rang through the office, "Excuse me Minister, Auror Blaisly is here, he says that is an emergency. Something about a sighting of one of the werewolves from Greyback's pack."

He sighed and pressed his wand to his throat, "Alright, send him in." he pulled his wand away and looked apologetically to Mr. Weasley and Hermione, "I'm sorry, we've been tracking Greyback's followers for days."

Mr. Weasley nodded, "Perfectly understandable, I hope you catch them. I heard that they bit two more teenage boys and a little girl last Monday, the sick bastards."

Kingsley reached out and shook Mr. Weasley's hand, then Hermione's, "Hermione, why don't you come back in on Thursday, about 9'clock? Hopefully, I will have at least some of this sorted and can schedule your Portkey and Escort by then."

Hermione nodded and tried to hold back the grateful tears forming in her eyes, "Thank you so much, Min-… Kingsley. This means so much to me."

His smile gleamed, "I assure you, it is nothing compared to the massive debt the wizarding world owes you."

He stood up and opened the door with a flick of his wand, "I'm sorry to rush you out, but I really must speak to Blaisly."

"Of course," Mr. Weasley and Hermione stood and walked out of the double doors, only to be pushed aside when a tall and imposing man strode impatiently into the room. His cloak was in tatters, and blood seeped from an oozing wound on his arm.

"Kingsley," he breathed, sounding like one would after sprinting up several flights of stairs, "Lycian, the werewolf that has become leader of Greyback's followers, he, and several others I didn't recognize, attacked my squad- several injured- one dead- just outside of-" the iron doors closed, and the Auror's voice was cut off as soundly as it would have had he been struck dead.

X

X

"You're mental, you know," Fred said, "Holing yourself up here, while the shop is collecting dust downstairs. If there ever was a time someone needed a laugh, it'd be now. But what are you doing? Moping around up here like a tosser."

"I told you," George replied aloud, well aware of how mad he sounded talking to himself in an empty flat, "It wouldn't be right, starting it up again without you."

"And if you had died, instead of me, and I was in the same place as you are, what would you want me to do?"

"I'd want you to stop being a pathetic prat and start up the shop, but it isn't as easy as it seems. You have no idea how empty everything is with you dead," George paced heavily across the living room.

"Of course it isn't easy!" Fred shouted, George almost flinched; he didn't remember ever being on the receiving end of his twin's anger, "I'm dead, and I'm not coming back, I get how hard that is! Do you think it's easy for me? Being where I am without you? No, it's not bloody easy, but it's what we're stuck with."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be so hard," George replied so quietly that he could barely hear his own voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I could… join you."

"DON'T. YOU. DARE," the force of Fred's voice alone pushed George down onto the couch, "Don't you dare talk like that. Don't you dare even _think_ like that. I would _never_ forgive you if you did that. Do you hear me? Never."

"Okay, okay," George raised his hands in surrender, "I was just-"

"No," Fred growled, George had never in his life heard such anger and menace in his brother's voice, "None of that bullshit George. Can you imagine what that would do to mum? Or the rest of our family? For the rest of their lives, they would be asking themselves what they could have done. I told you to take care of them for me."

"I'm-"

"Do you even realize what you have?" Fred railed on, "You are surrounded by our family. You lived to see the end of Voldemort. You're alive. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. You get to wake up in the morning; you get to smell fireworks and dungbombs; you get to talk to people; you get to invent things; you get to make people laugh. Hell…you even get to have a good wank when it suits your fancy. You don't get to die George, because now you're living for the both of us."

George wiped a tear forming at the corner of his eye and sniffed, "But Fred, I don't even know what to do with myself. I'm not even… me… without you. I can't stop blaming myself for what happened to you… we're never hurt unless we're apart… I let us get split up in the fight; I didn't even pay attention-"

"No, you don't get to blame yourself George, no way. I went where I needed to go, and so did you. End of story. If anyone is to blame, it's me, for not getting out of the way quick enough. And you're a funny bloke George, and good looking too- not as good looking as me- but otherwise pretty decent. You're perfectly capable of being someone without me."

"But-… I don't want to be someone without you…" George replied, swiping another tear off his cheek, "I don't even want to try, Freddie. It's so…"

"Wrong; I know," Fred's voice calmed dramatically, and George could almost feel his reassuring hand patting his back, "But you'll have to be strong. You'll get through. You'll open the shop, you'll make people laugh, you'll have sex, you'll get married, you'll have more sex, and then you'll have kids. And you'll have a boy and a girl, and you'll name one Fred, and the other Fredrica, and you and you're family will have a smashing time. This is the hardest part."

George nodded and began sobbing openly, wishing desperately that things had been different. That he could have his brother back. That he could be running the shop by Fred's side, instead of in his memory.

Finally, when he had no more tears to shed, George chuckled quietly, "Fredrica?"

In his mind, he could see Fred shrug, "I think it's a nice name."

The sound of three pounding knocks on the door of the flat sounded through the living room, "Just a moment!" George shouted. He walked quickly into the kitchen, doused his tear streaked face with water, used a drying charm, and went to the door.

He opened it to see the stubborn faces of Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson staring back at him.

"You're coming with us," Angelina said in a tone that told him that there was no room for argument.

"Where?" he asked wearily.

"Out," replied Lee, "You need to get out mate, see the world and all that rubbish."

As George opened his mouth to decline, Angelina waved her wand in his face, "We're not above taking you by force. You're coming with us."

"Remember what I said?" Fred asked, "About you living for the both of us? Well you'd best get started now."

George sighed and scratched the back of his head, "Alright, I'll go with you… let me get some dungbombs and instant darkness powder, you never know when they'll come in handy."

A mischievous grin came across Lee's face as he held up a large duffle bag, "Already got them, amongst other things."

George clapped his friend on the shoulder and laughed, "Good thinking my friend. Fred would be proud."

X

X

Author's Note: I think it's funny that I accidently put 'Angelina Jolie' instead of Angelina Johnson, and didn't notice until after I published it. It's fixed now, but I thought it was a funny typo that I would like to share with those of you that didn't read it before I fixed it.

Thank you again to all of you that have reviewed, I greatly appreciate each and every review.


	23. Golden Tines

Ron rolled his wand idly between his fingers, only half listening to Harry and Ginny as they talked about Quidditch tactics; it was the only time he could remember not being interested in a conversation about Quidditch.

He couldn't think of much else but Hermione, and going to Australia with her, alone… well, besides the Auror guards that was… mostly alone. He wandered what that would lead to, where she would want it to lead to. He almost laughed; a year ago, he would have only dared to dream about such things, and now they were a reality. Everything had changed.

He thought about the last seven years with her. He had hated her, when he first met her. He had hated how she was such a know-it-all, but more than that, he hated that she actually seemed to know it all. Now, he loved that about her; he looked to her for answers when he had none.

He had hated her bossiness, and now it turned him on.

He had hated how often they argued, and it turned out that their arguments had, in the end, brought them closer than he ever would have imagined.

He loved her, and loved that he didn't have to tell her that for her to know it, and that he didn't have to dote on her constantly for her to want to be with him. He loved her independence, and that he could be independent as well, and at the same time he could lean on her for support. It was a feeling that was strange and new to him, something he never even touched on with Lavender, and it was a feeling he wouldn't give up for the world... not even for a bloody Firebolt.

"Don't you think so, Ron?"

"Wha..? Oh, yeah, right." He replied

Ginny giggled and Harry hit Ron soundly on his head with a rolled up edition of the Daily Prophet.

Ron snapped out of his stupor and glared at Harry, "What in the bloody hell was that for?"

Ginny laughed even harder and snatched the Daily Prophet from Harry, unrolled it, and pointed to the top right corner of the third page.

**Harry Potter Dating a Mermaid?**

_In his fourth year at Hogwarts, The-Boy-Who-Lived, now The-Man-Who-Lived, dove into the Hogwart's lake to complete a task for the Triwizard tournament. He was the last of the competitors to rise from the lake, supposedly because he wanted to save Fleur Weasley's younger sister: Gabrielle Delacour, as well as Ronald Weasley, but is that the true story? Our sources, who wish to remain anonymous, state that he was actually wooing a mermaid by the name of Hertiashuenertyum, and struck up a romance with her that he is maintaining to this day…_

Ron couldn't continue reading, as tears of laughter were clouding his vision, "A mermaid, Harry? Really? Were you planning on telling Ginny anytime soon?"

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed, "If I had a Galleon for every time the Daily Prophet has fucked me over-"

Ginny interrupted him with a loud peal of laughter, "Seriously Harry, you should have told me that you had a thing for green hair; I could have dyed mine you know."

"You'd be a fucking millionaire mate; for as many times as the Daily Prophet has fucked you over," Ron snorted, "Billionaire, if you count how many times the Ministry has fu-…uh… oh, hey mum!"

Mrs. Weasley walked slowly into the living room- she had a new tendency to move slowly- with a small box held carefully in her hands, "Don't try to cover it up, Ronald Bilius Weasley, I heard your filthy mouth all the way in the kitchen."

Ron gestured wildly at Harry, "Harry cursed, too!"

"Oh, Harry dear could you help me?" Mrs. Weasley asked, smiling sweetly at Harry, "Just hold this for me for a moment, if you would dear."

Harry rushed over to take the box from her, but not before winking triumphantly at Ron's incredulous expression.

Mrs. Weasley nodded her thanks and moved over to the mantle of the fireplace, with her wand drawn in her shaking hand. She pointed it at the family clock and whispered a spell so quietly that they could barely hear her speak.

One of the nine tines of the clock, that was pointed steady at the place where the number twelve would be, began to spin slowly counterclockwise. The golden tine began to pick up speed as it spun, faster and faster with every revolution. Faster, faster, faster, until the entire face of the clock became nothing but a golden blur. Then, there was a small pop, and the golden arrow fell from the face of the clock, and into Mrs. Weasley's hands.

She turned around, holding the clock tine delicately in her hands. A small tear began moving slowly through the newly forming wrinkles on her face. Harry glanced down, reaffirming what he already knew to be true. Engraved in the gold, was the name _Fred Weasley_.

Mrs. Weasley set it gently on the table, and gestured for Harry to hand her the box; as he did, Harry looked over to Ron and Ginny, the two had sobered up extensively. Ron sniffed and looked down, Ginny hurriedly wiped her eyes and looked to Harry for reassurance that she would never openly admit that she needed. Harry stepped closer to her, just close enough to place a hand on her shoulder, while he fought to keep his own tears at bay.

Mrs. Weasley opened the small box, and pulled out three similar clock tines. Harry leaned over to see what they said: _Fleur Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter._

Harry was touched that she would make him his own clock arrow, to go on the Weasley family clock. Unable to contain himself, he stepped away from Ginny and up to Mrs. Weasley. He met her eyes for a long moment, then wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley sobbed into his shoulder.

"I love you, Mrs. Weasley," Harry whispered, "and thank you."

"I love you, too, and you're welcome, my dear. You're so welcome," Mrs. Weasley whispered back, clinging to him tightly, "And thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all that you've done," she pulled away and grasped his shoulders, more tears than before shone brightly on her face as she smiled at him, "Thank you."

She released his shoulders and lifted Harry's tine out of the box, "Now let's get these on, shall we?" she turned to the clock again, and, with her wand pointed at the golden arrow, muttered, "_Praeeo narras_," the tine rose from her hand up to the clock, clicked into place, and moved around the face for a moment, until settling on the word: _Home, _where the one o'clock position would normally be on a regular clock.

Mrs. Weasley pulled Fleur's tine from the box next, and it followed the same trail as Harry's, its point landing on _Home,_ meaning her home with Bill and Shell Cottage.

Finally, Mrs. Weasley pulled out Hermione's. Harry was interested in where it would point, since she was at the Ministry with Mr. Weasley, but it wasn't her work, nor was she any of the other places on the clock. He watched with curiosity as it rose through the air and clicked onto the clock, just as Harry's and Fleur's had done; but it fluctuated more than theirs had, swinging wildly from where the one o'clock position would be, to the seven o'clock position. Then, when it seemed to have settled right in between the words home and work, it began to move again, slowly clockwise around the face, until it finally came to a stop.

"It's probably wrong," Mrs. Weasley's voice shook, "The Ministry still probably has some dark magic around it, that would m-make sense, right? That's got to be what it is."

Ron got to his feet and strode over, his face stricken, "N-no, because look," he pointed a shaking finger at Mr. Weasley's golden tine that was pointed in the six o'clock, "Dad is at the Ministry, and it's pointed at work."

Mrs. Weasley shuffled backwards towards the kitchen, "I'll… send an owl to your father."

Ron, Harry, and Ginny stood at the fireplace, all pale, and stared up at the family clock in horror. Hermione's tine stood steadfastly at the words: _Mortal Peril._


	24. Crack

With a loud crack, Hermione appeared in the front yard of the Granger household, to the great shock and dismay of a passing woman. She stared at Hermione with wide eyes while holding a toy poodle tightly to her chest.

"Obliviate," Hermione whispered, and then quickly tucked her wand out of sight.

The woman blinked, bewildered for a moment, before she smiled and tucked a runaway strand of blond hair behind her ear, "Hello, Hermione dear, where have you and your parents been for the last year? The Homeowners' Association meetings haven't been the same without your mother."

"Hello, Mrs. Burbacheck," Hermione replied, "My dad has been busy opening another dentistry office in Ipswich, we've been living with my Aunt. We'll be moving back shortly, as soon as dad establishes the management."

The woman nodded, "Very good dear, well I must be going, good day."

Hermione smiled at her neighbor and waved her goodbye, then turned back to her home.

It looked just the same as it always had; the lawn was properly manicured, without a weed in sight- Hermione had charmed it to stay as such to keep suspicions low- and the brick pathway that cut through the fresh green grass was even and clean. The mailbox stood perfectly straight and proud- though properly proud, no more than the mailboxes at the neighboring houses- at an acceptable closeness to the sidewalk, just outside of the clean and square white picket fence that enclosed the front yard. Even the panels of the fence spoke of propriety and etiquette.

The house itself stood tall, clean, and imposing only in its unity with the neighboring homes; the only thing that distinguished it from the monotonous white walls of the houses beside it was Mrs. Granger's robin-egg blue curtains that peaked shyly out the clean and refined windows. The mahogany door, painted light blue to match the curtains, whispered scandalously that those that lived inside were slightly different from their neighbors, because they dared to paint their door light blue, instead of stark white. A bronze number 6 stood with pride beside the door, and Hermione remembered fondly that the number looked as if it was aflame when dawn's first light struck its polished surface. When she was little, she had thought that the effect was magic.

Despite her preference for the friendly chaos of the Burrow, Hermione's heart warmed at the sight of her home standing as it always had, and she felt her heart quicken in excitement at the thought that she would soon be able to bring her parents home.

Eagerly, Hermione looked up and down the street, hoping to see the familiar faces of Ron, Harry, and Ginny. Before she had left the Ministry, she had sent an owl to the Burrow, asking them to meet her there so she wouldn't have to go into the house for the first time after the war by herself. She didn't see them.

With a sigh, and one more look around to make sure that no one saw her, Hermione pulled out her wand again.

"Expecto Patronum," she grinned as a glowing Patronus, in the form of an otter, sprung from her wand. Then, she pointed her wand directly at the otter's forehead and said, "Ron, Harry, Ginny, and anyone else who may be available. I am at my home at Number Six, East Puckle Lane, Canterbury. I am waiting for assistance to enter my home. Please come, or send word to the contrary," the otter gave a small nod, and flew into the air and away.

As Hermione waited for her friends, she wasn't aware that the otter alighted unnoticed behind Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Mrs. Weasley in the exact moment that they were spinning to disapperate to the Ministry's visitor's entrance, and that it gave its message to an empty home.

For several minutes, she sat in her front lawn, with her wand in one hand while she picked absently at the grass with her other hand.

She was about ready to disapperate to the Burrow and get help herself, when she heard hurried footsteps on the sidewalk fast approaching. She looked up expectantly, only to see Mrs. Burbacheck rushing toward her; she no longer had her little dog, and she had a strange and distant look in her eyes that Hermione found to be eerily familiar.

"Hello again," she smiled at Mrs. Burbacheck, but the woman did now slow, or even look in Hermione's direction. Hermione jumped to her feet when the woman turned abruptly onto the Grangers' walkway, and made her way swiftly to the front door.

"Wait!" Hermione called after her, "Mrs. Burbacheck, it might not be safe!"

Without pause, the woman threw open the door that Hermione had magically locked and spelled a year ago, and strode inside.

Hermione stood in shock for a moment, until she heard a terrific scream. It was not a scream of pain, or fear, but horror.

Immediately, the worst thought possible flew into Hermione's mind. What if her memory changing spell hadn't worked correctly? Or had somehow worn off? What if her parents hadn't left for Australia, and her neighbor had just stumbled across their dead bodies? Hermione's heart leaped into her throat; she was caught horribly in-between one bit of logic, that stated that there could be dark magic traps lurking in her home, and another rationality that told her that if there were, her neighbor would die unless Hermione saved her. Ultimately, what made Hermione charge into the house with her wand drawn was the desperate need to know the fate of her parents.

The entryway seemed normal, and untouched but for the small rug that was slightly out of place: it had likely slid when Mrs. Burbacheck's hurried feet had pushed it across the polished hardwood floor.

Another horrified scream came from above Hermione, so she sprinted up the stairs. A chocked sob led Hermione straight into her parents' bedroom, and face to face with a smiling Mrs. Burbacheck.

The room was clean: no bodies, or blood, or anything out of the ordinary could be seen, and as Hermione met the woman's grey eyes, she recognized the distant look in them for what it was: the look of one under the Imperious curse.

Hermione turned to run, but found her was blocked by a thin, scraggly wizard with hungry blue eyes and a long grimy beard that climbed down his body like a grotesque vine until it ended, frayed, at his naval. Yellow teeth snarled as he reached for her.

Hermione darted away, toward the twin windows on the other side of the room, to find her way blocked again by three men possibly even more disgusting than the first.

Then, she remembered that she was a witch.

"Stupefy!" she screamed while dodging a disarming spell. The stunning spell missed one of the men by a hair, and instead hit Mrs. Burbacheck on her arm. She spun into the wall and hit it with a sickening thud, but Hermione didn't wait to see if she got to her feet again.

Hermione spun on her heel and kept a shield up as she did, but found- as she had suspected- that an Anti-Disapperation Jinx had been placed on the house. She needed to escape on foot.

Her mind was an array of spells, all of which erupted silently from her wand and she twisted and turned it in a vehement ballet. The very air around her seemed to explode in the violent light of her spell-craft. The wizards all threw up shields to protect themselves, only shooting a spell out in the rare occasion when one of her spells didn't pose a threat to him.

_Confringo! _She thought viciously, fire exploded from the tip of her wand and alighted on one of the wizard's robes. He howled in anger and tried to douse the flames while his fellows tried with a renewed vigor to seize Hermione: she was doing her best to make that impossible for them.

_Protego, Expelliarmus, Stupefy, Incarcerus, Petrificus Totalus, Stupefy, Reducto, Protego, Stupefy, _she thought wildly as she fought her attackers simultaneously. Finally, the wizard that had been blocking the door fell heavily, and before one of the others had a chance to stop her, Hermione sprung through the doorway.

She dashed down the stairs, taking three or four steps at a time while she went. She sent stunning spells over her shoulder and at anything that she even suspected of moving until she came to the base of the staircase. She swung around the corner and tore for the front door as fast as her feet would carry her, until an invisible force sent her stumbling backwards, as if an incredibly strong wind had blown through the living room.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice shouted as Hermione desperately tried to regain her footing. She watched in dismay as her wand flew out of her hand and clattered across the room. Hermione dove after it in wild desperation…

"Incarcerous!" the same voice shouted triumphantly. Hermione fell to the ground with a profound thump, next to her wand with her arms bound behind her back in glistening black ropes.

She lay there, gasping for breath and listened to the voice that bound her shout, "Yewlin! Grout! Verine! What the fuck is wrong with you? I send four of you to come get one girl, and she almost gets away! You're lucky I came here to see what was taking you so long, or she would have escaped and we would have lost our chance, for good."

His reprimand was answered by submissive mumbles and apologies.

"We'll talk about this later. Where's Feron? He's the ringleader of this damn circus… well? Where is he?"

"He's dead, Lycian. I lost count of how many spells she used. He got hit with a fire spell of some sort, and then when he was trying to douse his robes, she hit him with a Reductor Curse…"

"Dead?" the wizard called Lycian growled, "He was one of the best…"

Angry footsteps followed his words, and suddenly Hermione felt herself being lifted off the ground and slammed fiercely into the wall. It reminded her of what Rowle had done the day after the final battle. It didn't seem like the final battle any longer.

Hermione recognized with a horrific jolt that Lycian was the name that the Auror in Kingsley's office had used when talking about the new leader of Greyback's pack… the pack that bit anyone they could to take over the wizarding world with an army of werewolves. Lycian smiled cruelly at her, his gnarled and yellow finger nails dug into her arms painfully, and his fierce green eyes stared at her ravenously. Greasy, long blond hair hung limply around his face, and a beard- shorter than the others- protruded from his imposing jaw like straw.

"You killed on of my best men," he growled, "You will pay dearly for that, Mudblood."

Hermione looked down, trying not to let him see the fear that she felt creeping into her eyes.

Lycian tipped her chin up with a long, clawed fingernail, "We have been waiting for you, Hermione Granger. We had hoped to be able to catch your little Potter and Weasley friends as well, but they will be caught eventually. You are our real prize, my dear," Hermione did her best not to flinch at his putrid breath on her face.

"Why me?" she asked, she couldn't stop her voice shaking in fear. Hermione knew what Greyback did to his victims, and she suspected his disciples would be no different. Without consciously deciding to, Hermione thought of Ron, who probably had no idea of the danger she was in. As subtly as she could, she dug her thumb nail into her index finger until she felt it draw blood, and then pressed her finger to the wall.

"Fenrir Greyback," Lycian whispered the name with reverence, as if speaking the name of a god, "The most enlightened of us all, the one that showed us the path to freedom, the one who showed us the idea of a world dominated by werewolves. He tragically died in battle, but his ideals and dreams live on in us."

Hermione shivered, but willed herself to keep talking, hoping that if she kept them there long enough, that help would arrive, "What does that have to do with me?"

Lycian stared fiercely at her, "Fenrir wanted you, ever since he first captured you. After you escaped, he obsessed over capturing you again. When we went into the Battle of Hogwarts, he told us that if we had to choose between you, or Harry Potter, that we would choose you. Fenrir had little loyalty to the Dark Lord. He told us that you, and only you, would be the perfect example for what would happen not only to Mudbloods, but to anyone who opposes the werewolf regime. You are quite popular, it will draw the desired media attention."

He rubbed a piece of her hair between his fingers before letting his hand fall to her neck, "Fenrir encouraged us to follow our primal instincts, particularly lust," Hermione closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth as Lycian's scared hand traveled roughly down her body until it settled between her legs. Hermione had never been so glad to be wearing Muggle jeans in her life. He pushed on her harshly and growled, "And we intend to do just that."

Hermione bit back a sob and whispered, "So what do you plan to do to me? Are you going to bite me?" she remembered what Greyback had done to Bill when he had still been in human form. He had acquired a taste for human flesh that could not be sated once a month.

However, Lycian removed his hand from her and shifted back slightly. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, Hermione noticed the other werewolved looking uncomfortable as well when Lycian said, "We are not yet as… enlightened… as Fenrir was. We have yet to acquire the ability to consume human flesh while we are not in wolf form…" Lycian seemed to regain his confidence, and grabbed one of Hermione's breasts and squeezed until she cried out in pain, "but don't you worry, we have plenty planned for you."

Abruptly, Lycian pulled Hermione away from the wall, grabbed her arm forcefully, and spun.

The werewolves and Hermione all disappeared from the Granger household with a crack_._

X

X

Author's note: Oh how I do love writing parts like this, action and a cliff-hanger: my kind of writing; especially when I know what is going to happen, and you do not. I feel quite maniacally evil at the moment. I am sorry, my dear readers, I love you all, but you are just going to have to put up with my evilness. I'm glad I didn't bring in Greyback himself, he's a bit overused for my taste, and when it comes to Death Eaters (or evil werewolves) that haven't been elaborated on in the Harry Potter books, I enjoy bringing in my own splash of creativity.

It took me quite a while to figure out how to write this chapter, because I had to lure Hermione, alone, into a dangerous situation. It would have been easy with Ron or Harry, but with Hermione- to really work with her character- you have to make an appeal to her reason. It was a bit difficult to lure her into that house, because every time I tried, she would tell me, "No, I can wait until I have backup. I'm not going in there, it could be dangerous," so finally, the only way to get her to willingly run into a possibly dangerous situation was to have her go after her neighbor.

One last thing: I am very proud of my description of the Grangers' house, so I would love to know what you think of that as well.


	25. With a Trace

"Last time I saw her, she was sending an owl to you, to meet you at her home. She told me she would wait outside until you arrived," Mr. Weasley explained hurriedly as they rushed through the Atrium to the lift, "You're sure you didn't see the owl?"

Mrs. Weasley's voice shook as she answered, "Earlier, I thought that I saw an owl in the distance coming towards the house, but nothing came. When I looked again, it was gone, and that was right before we put her tine on the clock."

Harry came to an abrupt stop, forcing everyone else to skid to a halt. The Ministry workers behind them- oblivious to the urgency of the matter- grumbled as they passed, irritated that they had to walk around the group, "Wait, Mrs. Weasley, last year, all of the tines on the clock were always pointed to Mortal Peril, even when they weren't in any immediate danger, right?"

She nodded, "Yes, and they went back to normal after You-Know-Who was defeated, now come on dear, we have to get Kingsley and the Aurors-"

"But that could mean that there is potential for danger around her, instead of her actually being in danger. Like, there could be something dangerous in her house and she's waiting outside, right?"

Ron jumped, unable to contain the hope that spread through him like wildfire, "Brilliant, mate! She could be just fine! We just have to get to her and get her away from there, is all."

"Dad," Bill said, he had met them at the ministry immediately after he had gotten a message from Mrs. Weasley's patronus- a bear- explaining briefly what had happened, "You and Mum go to Kingsley, tell him what happened and get help in case we need it, quickly. Ron, Harry, and I will apperate to Hermione's home, come on you two, let's go."

They didn't need to be told twice, they broke into a sprint behind Bill, pushing roughly through the crowd towards the Visitors' exit.

"Ginevra Weasley, you come back here!" Mrs. Weasley screeched, her voice on the edge of pure panic, "Ginny!"

Ginny didn't slow, but instead continued to run behind them, ignoring her mother's panicked calls and thinking only of her friend in danger and the horrible number of hexes she would use on anyone that hurt her. Bill, Harry, and Ron didn't try to stop her. There was no time, and they knew she wouldn't let them leave without her.

They dove through a line of people waiting to use the Visitors' exit, and into the small red telephone booth, ignoring the angry shouts of the witches and wizards as they snapped the door shut.

"Please," Bill said as the booth lurched into movement, "Please tell me that one of you knows her address," normally cool and laidback, Bill radiated anger and worry. His ponytail and fang earing, things that usually served to add to his relaxed appearance, made him look fiercer and more terrifying to cross. His scars shone bright red on his flushed face.

Ron's heart pounded frightfully in his chest, making it difficult to remember anything, "Uhm, it was Number Six… shit, it was something barmy sounding… Pukish…Pickle…"

"Puckle!" Harry exclaimed in sudden recollection, "Number Six, Puckle Lane, Canterbury!"

"That's it!" Ron exclaimed, "That's exactly it!"

The booth finally came to a stop, and when its doors swung open, the four of them rushed out and span around, with Ginny gripping Harry's arm tightly in side-along apperation.

They appeared in a clean, cookie cut neighborhood. Ron had never seen anything like it before: every house was exactly the same, except for one with a light blue door, and matching curtains.

"That's it," Ginny pointed at a bronze number six next to the blue door, "this is her house."

Hermione wasn't waiting in front.

Ron's heart dropped, and he ran frantically toward the house. It was when he reached the door, with the others at his heels, that he heard the telltale crack of disapperation come from the inside of the house.

"HERMIONE!" he shouted desperately as he ripped the door open and sprang inside, ready to kill.

The house was empty.

"No," Ginny gasped quietly, "Maybe that was her, maybe she disapperated to the Burrow."

"It wasn't," Bill replied, his voice desolate, "There's an Anti-Disapperation Jinx on this house, only someone who cast the spell could disapperate from here, them and whoever they wanted to take with them in a side-along."

"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted again, he was half sobbing as he stumbled around the corner and up the stairs.

He gasped when he saw a still hand lying through an open doorway, and felt only a slight relief to discover that it wasn't Hermione. It was a man- dead- with singed robes and blue eyes that stared blankly up at the ceiling. Ron felt a small surge of satisfaction that Hermione had at least taken one of them down.

Ginny walked past Ron and peaked her head into the room that the man was lying in, "It's a mess, but there's no one else in here. The window is blasted open, maybe she jumped out and disapperated, and whoever just now disapperated left when they knew they couldn't-"

"Ron! Ginny!" Harry's panicked voice called up to them.

The two looked to each other before charging back down the stairs, both of them knowing that whatever Harry had found probably disproved Ginny's hopeful theory.

Ron's heart dropped when he saw Harry holding Hermione's wand in the Grangers' living room, and his body threatened to give out when he saw a small spot of red letting on the wall: he knew in an instant the red was blood.

"W-… what does it say?" Ron asked weakly, not wanting to know the answer.

"She really is a genius," Bill muttered in awe, shaking his head slightly as he stared at the writing.

"What?"

Bill walked over to the words and pointed to them, "It says 'Lycia' and you can tell she started to write an n."

"She?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes off of the word.

"Yes, she. Hermione wrote this. You can tell by how thin the lettering is, and if you look close, you can see it was written with upward strokes. That's not how you write when you're facing it. By the look of it, she had her back to the wall, and her hands behind her, and was either bleeding slightly, or made herself bleed, and used her finger to write this. Bloody brilliant. All the Aurors in the Order of the Phoenix told me that if you were ever caught in a spot, to do your best to leave some sort of hint of who got you, that's exactly what she did."

"Who's Lycian?" Ginny asked meekly.

Bill turned to him and replied solemnly, "Lycian is the new leader of Greyback's pack of werewolves."

Ron felt his blood run cold, "Werewolves have her?"

Bill nodded.

Ron fell to his knees, and heard Ginny gasp quietly behind him. They all knew what that meant, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know. Wait for the Aurors, they should be here any moment, maybe they have a lead on where Lycian and his pack are."

Ron felt as if he was charging headlong into the path of a moving train.

X

X

"Rennervate."

Hermione gasped as she awoke, realizing all too quickly that Lycian had stunned her the moment after they had apperated, and that she wasn't in her home anymore. Instead, she was in a dingy, windowless room on a hard and uneven brick floor. Above her was a smiling Lycian, his yellowed teeth looked like nothing less than fangs as he smirked down at her.

"Welcome to your home for the next three weeks, Mudblood," his smile widened, and he looked at that moment like he was going to swallow her whole.

"Three weeks?" she asked quietly.

"It's the eighteenth of May, today. Three weeks from tomorrow is the next full moon. That is when we will make an example of you for the whole wizarding world to see."

Hermione closed her eyes, _Calm down, keep your head. Think of the solution, not the problem. The solution. You've gotten out of spots worse than this. Keep your head, keep your head._

It was then that Lycian planted his mouth fully on hers.

Hermione couldn't stop herself from squealing in horror, and brought her hands up to push at his shoulders as hard as she could. Instead of repelling him, her struggle made Lycian growl with pleasure and force his tongue into her mouth.

So she bit down: hard.

That did the trick.

Lycian punched her roughly to get her to release him, and pulled away, caressing his bleeding tongue, "'ou bit'h!" he shouted, while howling in pain, "'ou'll thay for tha'!"

Hermione shuffled into the corner, narrowly missing his angry kick, and jumped to her feet. _His wand, his wand, where's his wand, find his wan-_

"Cruthio!" he shrieked, whipping his wand out of his sleeve and pointing it maliciously at her.

She fell back to the ground roughly, screaming. She hardly even noticed the pain of her head striking the brick floor in comparison to the crippling agony of the curse.

Lycian didn't stop the curse, but instead seemed to intensify it as he shouted over her screams, "Tha's wha' you ge' 'udblood!"

Finally, the curse dropped, leaving Hermione gasping for air and gripping her sides against the aftershocks of pain.

Lycian healed his tongue with a quick spell. Then knelt beside her, "I suppose you need a lesson or two, do you, Hermione?"

She responded by gathering what was left of her strength and spat in his face.

Calmly, he wiped her spit from his cheek, and stared down at her with increasing hatred, "I'll take that as a yes."

X

X

Author's note: I hope that answered your question jesrod82, if it didn't let me know. And asked if I already have this written or if I write as I go. The answer to that question is that I am just writing as I go. Usually I write during down-time in class, or in between different homework assignments when I am at home. I like updating quickly, because I like people who also update quickly… I also do so because I love reading all of your reviews, thank you again!


	26. Keep Your Head

"Crucio!" Lycian shouted again.

Hermione writhed in pain and screamed in agony. It was the same pain of her experience at Malfoy Manor. It was the pain that plagued her nightmares with frightening tenacity. Her skin felt as if it was being ripped from her body, her bloid boiling, her bones melting, a thousand dull and rust knives stabbing over and over again into her skull. The only thought she could get through her tortured mind was; _Keep your head, keep your head, don't go mad, keep your head, keep your head, keep your… head… keep your… keep… keep…_

She lost all sense of time, she wasn't sure if the curse went on for moments or hours. All that existed was the pain. All she was aware of when Lycian dropped the curse was that she had to scramble desperately in her mind to gather crucial information: like who she was and where she came from.

As her mind rushed desperately to fit her sanity back into place, Hermione barely noticed when Lycian took off his tattered cloak and threw it into the corner, and it took her a few moments to piece together what that could mean, and when she finally came enough out of herself to understand, fear swept through her. She knew what was going to happen if she didn't get out soon.

_Solution, not the problem. Wand, get his wand. Do anything you must to get his wand. Wand. Where is the wand. In his hand. Solution, solution, think of the solution. Get him to drop it. Keep your head, just-_

"Crucio," Lycian flicked his wand almost lazily.

_Keep your head. Keep your head. Keep your…parchment… lawn… Ron… Ron… Ron and Harry will find me… Keep your… what… hurts… so bad… death… death would be better… than this… keep…_

"How does that feel, girl?" Lycian sneered, his voice barely audible over her piercing cries.

"Please," she managed to choke out; the curse only intensified, "Please!" she screamed.

Hermione felt even more helpless than she had under Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, because at least then she was being interrogated- whereas this was just pain for the sake of pain. She had had some power, she could lie, and maybe get the pain to stop… last time… last time… she fought under the agony to remember what exactly had happened last time… what had made the pain stop? And where was that voice that kept calling her name, reminding her of who she was?

"We found it! We found it- PLEASE!" she screamed.

Lycian dropped the curse, "What are you screaming about, girl?" he asked, a slight frown on his face.

"It's a copy," Hermione sobbed and clutched at her sides, "It's only a copy… a copy…"

His frown morphed into a deep scowl, "Fenrir said that you could last ages under the Cruciatus… you're going mad, girl, snap out of it, we can't have you mad… not yet anyway," he bent down and slapped her soundly across the face, "Snap out of it."

The strike pulled Hermione forcefuly back into her sanity, and terrified her in that she had lost it at all, and how quickly she had. It made her wonder how long she would last until she permanently lost her mind.

_Wand, wand, wand, _she repeated to herself, _Keep your head and get his wand._

"Lycian?" three knocks came from the door, "Lycian?"

"What?" he growled, "I told you, you can have her after I'm done."

"It's not that. It's the Death Eater brats, they want to talk to you."

"Tell them to go play in their sandbox and leave things to the real wizards."

"I did, they said they won't leave until they speak to you, and they also said that if you don't come talk to them now, that they'll bring the other Death Eaters down on us."

Lycian sighed, "Fine," he snatched up his cloak and wrenched the door open, "I'll talk to the children…" he looked over his shoulder at Hermione, then back to the other werewolf, "Do what you want with her, but do it quickly, I'll be back in a minute. And make sure she doesn't lose her fight, or you'll pay for it. I can replace you as second in command in a moment's notice."

When Lycian's angry footsteps faded away, the werewolf he had been speaking to stepped into the room. His eyes shone like golden Galleons as he closed the door.

X

X

"Hermione is brilliant," Neville said as he stared with his arms crossed at the blood on the wall, "We'll get her back… we will… if she doesn't get herself out first."

Neville Longbottom had changed dramatically from his first year; he had gone from a timid, apprehensive little boy, to a confident, brave, Gryffindor man. When Kingsley had come to him after the Battle of Hogwarts and offered a job as an Auror, his response had simply been, "When do I start?" he hadn't wanted to take a break from fighting, as Harry and Ron did, but had insisted that he wanted to start "chasing those bastards back into the hole they crawled out of" as soon as possible. He seemed quite different to Ron and Harry, now that all of the bruises and cuts were gone from his face. His boyish round face had transformed over the years, producing a strong, square jaw. His shorter build only served to accentuate his broad shoulders. His blond hair was shaggy and slightly unkempt, making his blue eyes seem almost wild. At his hip, he had the sword of Gryffindor; has Harry had hoped, he had been allowed to keep it until it was called upon by another Gryffindor in an act of dire need and courage. The sword had not left his side since the day he had pulled it out of the Sorting Hat, and occasionally, in times of stress, he could be seen lifting it slightly to make sure it was clear in its scabbard; though he rarely pulled in completely free- wands were often more convenient to use than swords in the wizarding world- it added to his increasingly imposing presence.

Ron found that, even though he practically towered over Neville, that he found himself slightly intimidated by him, under normal circumstances… but these were not normal circumstances, and Ron knew that even a giant couldn't intimidate him now.

"I don't care what your bloody opinion is Neville, tell me where I can find her," Ron growled through gritted teeth. He was itching to get his hands on Lycian, and all of the other werewolves that had taken her; Ron could tell from one glance at Harry that he wanted the same.

Neville's bright blue eyes swept to Ron's and he replied sincerely, "I know, Ron. You've got to believe that I want to find her as badly as you do. She was my first friend; don't think I forgot that she helped my find Trevor on our first trip on the Hogwarts express. We'll find her if we have to turn over every stone."

Instead of replying, Ron took to pacing around the living room. His fists shook violently, and the ridges of his wand bit into his palm with how tightly he was gripping it. He tried to stay out of the way of the numerous investigators that picked across the house, but it was difficult when half of the time all he could see was red, and all he could hear were Hermione's screams.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted, making one of the wizards near him jump, he spun to Neville again, who was in a deep and hushed conversation with Kingsley- all the better, Kingsley was another person he wanted to yell at, "Do any of you even _realize_ what could be happening to Hermione right now, what they- could be-… oh GOD!" he ran his hands through his hair and turned his back to them, trying to conceal his tears, "She could be… they're going to…" he buried his face in his hands, "We have to find her, we can't let them…" he suddenly wished Bill was still there, and hadn't left to go get Fleur and update the family.

Even Kingsley's usually reassuring voice sounded unsure when he said, "We'll find her, Ron. We are blazing through our files as fast as we can, picking through every piece of evidence, following every lead on these werewolves. I got a report from an Auror this morning that his squad was attacked by Lycian's pack about a mile outside of Hogsmead, we are having every available Auror and Magical Law Enforcement member scanning the area as we speak.. We will find her."

Without another word, Ron turned and began to stride towards the door. Harry followed without question, their silent communication saying all that needed to be said.

"Ron, Harry," Ginny hissed, "Where are you guys going?"

"Going to help with the search, I can't just stand here doing nothing,"

"I'll go too," Ginny replied, and when Harry opened his mouth to argue, she snapped, "Don't even think about arguing Harry Potter or I'll hex your bollocks off, and don't think I'm above that either."

Harry snapped his mouth closed, but didn't look exactly pleased with it.

Neville lifted the sword of Gryffindor a couple inches out of its sheath, then let it drop down again with a snap, "I'll go, too, if you don't need me, Minister?"

Kingsley nodded, "Go ahead, send me a patronus if you find anything, I'll do the same."

Neville nodded and the four of them rushed outside of the range of the Anti-Disapperation Jinx.

"We'll apperate to the broom shed at the Burrow," Ron said, "Neville, there's a Fidelus Charm on the Burrow, so you'll have to apperate to the outside of it, we'll come out with the brooms."

The three nodded their assent, and Ron saw Neville grip onto the sword's hilt tightly before he disapperated.

X

X

Hermione laid on the cold brick floor quietly with her eyes closed as the wizard threw his robe and pants off and fell to his knees beside her. He lowered his face slowly until she could feel his stinking breath on her ear, "Lycian said to make it fast, so that's what we'll do, eh, mudblood?"

His yellowed fingernails started moving at an alarming pace. They fell down to her jeans and tore at them furiously until the button ripped away. Hermione kicked at him desperately, but her struggle just spurred him on. He quickly pulled the ruined pants down and off her legs and tossed them away.

"You a virgin, mudblood? Oh, I bet you are. Saving yourself just for me?" He smiled crookedly and brushed a chunk of matted hair out of his face.

"Please, don't." Hermione pleaded weakly, "Please."

The man's smile grew, "Yeah, keep begging, I like that."

His filth caked hands snaked up her body to her upper thighs, then when he reached the band of her knickers he dug his nails into her skin and dragged back down her legs as she tried to get away, leaving her exposed, with deep, bleeding scratches down her legs. Hermione cried out and punched at him, but missed, "PLEASE!" she cried as he moved back up her body, she thrashed with all her might, but the curse had taken so much out of her that every small movement was like trying to swim through mud.

The man laughed deeply and pinned her thrashing hands to the ground with his, "Sometimes, when the others fuck, they like to use magic to keep them pinned, but I think it takes the fun out of it," he released one of her hands, but she kept it where he left it as he let his own hand travel down her body.

_Just one moment more, just a little more…_ Hermione thought as his hand passed her naval. It showed clearly in his eyes that he relished in the fear he saw in hers.

"Stupefy!" Hermione screamed as she pointed the man's own wand directly between his eyes.

The wizard's eyes widened in shock for just a moment before the spell hit him and sent him slamming into the wall. He fell to the floor, and was still.

While he had been preoccupied with undressing her, Hermione had strategically inched her way toward his discarded robes, where he had left his wand, masking her movements as frantic struggles. The man had been none the wiser until the stunning spell had hit him.

Hermione got to her feet and quickly pulled her knickers on. Her pants were ruined, but she didn't care, she was going to get out of there.

She picked up the wizard's tattered black robe from the corner, threw it on, drew the hood up, and pulled it tightly around her, hoping that she would look at least a little bit more inconspicuous, although she was well aware that she would probably have to fight her way out, if she got out at all.

After taking a deep breath, and saying, "Keep your head," quietly to herself, Hermione silently pushed open the door.

X

X

Author's note: I wrote Neville with blond hair because I keep to the books, and the books never say what eye color he has, so I chose blue. I like badass Neville.


	27. Staggering Strength

Hermione inched cautiously out of the door, leading with the wizard's wand. She found herself at the end of a narrow, windowless hallway. The dim light of two lanterns barely lit it enough to see. The dingy walls moaned in the melancholy of their existence; dried out wallpaper chipped away in various places, no longer able to keep its hold. In many other places, four parallel scratches ran down the length of the wall, leaving rugged tears in their wake. Old blood stained the walls and floors, sometimes in violent splatters, where a vicious attack occurred, and sometimes in long smears, where the victim leaned against it, gravely wounded, in a vain attempt to escape whatever was attacking them.

No one lurked in the corridor, but Hermione moved through it still carefully, a number of curses stood ready on her tongue should anyone turn down the hallway. She pushed away the vicious pain that still surged through her, not allowing it to impede her no matter how desperately she wanted to curl into a ball and sleep.

As she reached the end of the hallway, Hermione heard a dangerous voice, "You'll give us the mudblood, Lycian."

"Not on your life, brat," Lycian's voice growled. Hermione took another careful step forward and risked a glance around the corner.

In a small room, that resembled something of a living room, four hooded figures stood facing Lycian and a large band of werewolves. Hermione's breath caught in her throat when she saw that the only door was on the other side of the room. She wished desperately that she had Instant Darkness Powder.

"We aren't leaving without her," said one hooded figure that stood in front of the other three, he was much taller than the others, and Hermione thought that his voice sounded familiar.

"Well then you won't leave," Lycian gestured to his fellow werewolves with a scared hand, "If you haven't noticed, we quite outnumber you. It won't hurt our conscience to kill you; or, even better, we can just keep you here until the next full moon."

Hermione wavered on her feet; her sight was becoming hazy, and it suddenly became very difficult to breath. She staggered, and hit the wall beside her with a quiet thud. She closed her eyes and waited for someone to notice, when no one did, she pulled herself together as best she could and dared another peak around the corner.

The tallest death eater sighed and pulled back his hood, revealing a man, perhaps only a year older than Hermione, with large ice-blue eyes that assessed Lycian cryptically, and dangerously. Hermione recognized him as a former Slytherin Prefect, Caesar McFarlin.

His voice remained cool and calm, as his gaze swept across the room where werewolves outnumbered him and his fellows four to one, "You see, Lycian, we are leaving, now, with the mudblood girl in tow, whether you give her willingly, or we take her. You wouldn't want to lose precious members of your silly 'werewolf regime', would you?"

Lycian laughed haughtily, and was followed by several others in the room, he pointed at Caesar as he laughed, "Kid, are you trying to threaten me? That's rich; you're barely old enough to use magic out of school!"

Caesar's face showed no signs of anger or frustration, he merely stared at the werewolf until Lycian regained his composure, then said in a quiet and deadly voice, "And Harry Potter, a year younger than I, defeated the greatest wizard to ever live. Age is not an indicator of skill, Lycian. Rest assured, the four of us could take all of you down at the drop of a hat. There is a reason we were chosen to come retrieve Harry Potter's mudblood friend. We are among the best in the Dark Arts."

Lycian's smiling face turned quickly into a scowl, "Don't kid yourself. Who are you anyway? And why are you so desperate to have the Granger girl? Why didn't you capture her yourself? If you are oh-so powerful, eh?"

"I am Caesar McFarlin. We, unlike you, have been out for all of three of that sickening trio, particularly Harry Potter. Three Death Eaters before us, after the battle at Hogwarts, have tried to capture Harry Potter, or someone close to Harry Potter, and failed. A small portion of the remaining Death Eater force staged a raid on the Weasley household, and failed. Harry Potter is a foolish Gryffindor who will come running stupidly into our grasp to retrieve anyone he cares for. He must suffer and die for what he has done, and we must have the mudblood girl to capture him."

"McFarlin… oh I remember now, your mum was killed in the battle, and your dad sent to Azkaban, is that right?"

Caesar nodded.

"Well, _Caesar_, you aren't getting the girl. We caught her; we did the dirty work; we get to enjoy her. Got it? Go find Potter on your own. Half of your 'Death Eater' force is made up of children, so good luck not getting yourselves slaughtered. Be aware that if your 'force' dwindles enough, we'll be there to take the rest of you for werewolves."

Caesar ignored Lycian's rant and looked around the room again, "Where is she?"

"My second in command is in the back room having his way with her."

X

X

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Ginny flew just above the trees a few miles north of Hogsmead. They flew spread out from each other, just close enough that they could be seen by one another, and they had agreed to shoot up red sparks if they saw anything.

Ron's eyes darted frantically about, looking desperately for any sign, any clue that the werewolves had been there, or anything out of the ordinary, but all he saw were trees and an empty forest floor.

He looked to his right to see if any of the others had found anything, but all three of them were doing the same as he, staring down into the forest in desperate hope to see the bushy brown hair they knew so well, there were no red sparks and no curly brown hair.

Every movement he saw made Ron's heart jump into his throat, and made it drop again every time he realized that it was only a bird taking flight, or a deer darting through the trees. His knuckles were white and shaking against his broom handle. Hermione's screams from Malfoy Manor echoed through his mind over and over again, and he heard Greyback saying, "Reckon she'll let me get a bit of the girl when she's done with her? I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, ginger?" again, it seemed like he was helpless to do anything. He had promised himself, as he had brought Hermione's limp body into Shell Cottage, that he would never let himself be that helpless again, and that he would never let anything happen to her again. He had already broken both of those promises.

Suddenly, he found himself careening downwards; he had been so lost in thought that he had lost control of his broom. It wasn't until he was below the line of the trees that he regained control of it.

And that was when he saw it.

At the base of a large rock, was a large, wooden trapdoor, completely invisible from anyone who flew over it.

Ron immediately landed his broom, and shot red sparks into the air.

Harry, always fastest on any broom, landed first, followed close behind by Ginny.

"What is it?" Harry's eyes were wide and frantic as he looked around the forest.

Ron pointed his wand at the trapdoor, "That's it, that's got to be it."

Neville landed clumsily beside them, he may have gained assurance on his feet, but he was still sloppy on a broomstick, immediately his eyes fell to the trapdoor, "I'll send Kinglsey a message… Expecto Patronum," Ron was shocked when a mighty lion, instead of Neville's first patronus- a turtle- leapt sliver from Neville's wand. The lion turned around and sat majestically in front of its caster, looking at Neville expectantly. He lowered his wand to the Patronus's forehead and spoke clearly, "We have found the possible site. There is a trapdoor at the base of a boulder three miles to the north of Hogsmead. I will place a blue flare at the site. We are going in now to assess and possibly apprehend the threat."

The lion patronus nodded solemnly, then got to its feet and bounded up into the air like it was climbing invisible steps, and as soon as it got to above the trees, the patronus sped away with the speed of a shooting star.

After his patronus had gone, he flicked his wand with a silent spell, and a bright ball of blue flew from it and landed at his feet. He pointed his wand at it and murmered something under his breath, and from the glowing ball, a bright beam of light shot into the air. Neville then lifted the sword of Gryffindor, this time completely out of its scabbard. The sword emerged with a unique ring that reverberated through the empty woods, "Let's go," he said.

But Ron was already two steps ahead of him, sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him to the trap door. He bent down, grasped the rust iron handle, and wrenched it open. Ron was just about to start climbing down the ladder that was there, but Harry beat him to it, practically lunging himself onto the ladder and shuffling down it as quickly as he could, determination etched clearly in his face.

Ron followed quickly behind, then Ginny and Neville followed him. The ladder was long, and the only light they had to see by was a dim lantern that hung on the wall at the bottom.

When Ron felt his feet touch the uneven brick floor, he spun around, expecting to see a number of enemies ready to fight, but there were none. They had landed in a dusky hallway with three different doors along it. From the last one, they heard voices.

The four of them quietly crept forward through the hallway, wands- and sword- at the ready. As they neared the last door, they could finally make out the words.

"McFarlin… oh I remember now, your mum was killed in the battle, and your dad sent to Azkaban, is that right?"

There was a small silence.

"Well, Caesar, you aren't getting the girl. We caught her; we did the dirty work; we get to enjoy her. Got it? Go find Potter on your own. Half of your 'Death Eater' force is made up of children, so good luck not getting yourselves slaughtered. Be aware that if your 'force' dwindles enough, we'll be there to take the rest of you for werewolves."

"Where is she?" a cold voice asked.

"My second in command is in the back room having his way with her."

Ron's heart stopped, and before he knew what he was doing, he blasted the door off of its hinges and started shooting curses wildly into the room, screaming in rage as he did.

He knocked several wizards off of their feet, and continued spinning spells as Harry, Ginny, and Neville emerged from behind him, doing the same. There were a great many wizards in the room, but they had been caught completely off guard by the attack, and stood dumbly for a moment before finally pulling out their wands.

_Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, have to get to Hermione…_ Ron thought wildly, stunning one wizard while blocking a curse from another. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry disarm two wizards with one curse, and Neville lop off another wizard's wand arm. To his right, Ginny disarmed one wizard, caught their wand, and then stunned two others on either side of her with each wand.

_Back room, they said back room… there's a hallway…_ then he saw a figure emerge from the hallway. It was a small wizard, and his tattered robe was drawn tightly around him while his hood shrouded his eyes. The wizard sent out a stunning curse, which struck a werewolf with straw colored hair directly in the back, Ron thought it was because of particularly bad aim.

Then he realized, _My second in command is in the back room having his way with her… second in command_, Ron flew towards the small wizard with an intense fury, sure that this was the second in command that had been violating Hermione. Ron knew right then that he was going to kill this wizard, just as he had killed the last wizard to hurt Hermione: Rowle.

The small wizard saw him coming, and stood dumbly watching him for a moment, but squeaked in fright when he saw Ron's killing curse spiraling at him. He was barely able to dodge the deadly curse.

"Ron!" he shouted, his voice higher pitched than Ron would have expected, but he paid little notice and sent another fatal spell spiraling at him; again, the wizard barely dodged the lethal green light.

"RON!" the wizard screamed, and this time pulled back his... her hood. Hermione stood watching him fearfully as Ron stopped in his tracks.

"Hermione?" he stared at her in astonishment, "Oh, god, Hermione! I'm so-"

"Watch out!" she hit him forcefully with a knockback jinx, pushing him just out of the way of a killing curse.

When Ron had regained his footing, he saw Hermione on the other side of the room, battling fiercely with a tall wizard in black robes with ice-blue eyes; Ron thought he recognized him from somewhere.

Hermione ground her teeth as she dueled Caesar, he was, as he had said, an excellent dueler. Compared to the werewolves, that had begun dropping like flies since Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Neville had arrived, the four younger wizards were brilliant fighters. All four of the wizards in darker robes still stood, even when three other Aurors joined the fight, they remained standing. Hermione fought not only to hold her own with Caesar, but to remain standing at all. Pain still rippled through her with every movement; her mind felt dull and inefficient; and she felt blood from the scratches on her legs oozing down her calves and onto the ground.

The small room was crowded with fighters. Werewolves that hadn't fallen battled viciously against the newly arrived Aurors, trying to fight their way to the exit to escape, and more Aurors filed in making that impossible. The numbers of fighting werewolves were dwindling quickly.

Hermione was slightly puzzled by why Caesar dueled, not to kill, but to capture, and that his fellows were doing the same. Even the two that were fighting Harry did not send a single killing curse his way. She was amazed that Harry was able to take on two of the Death Eaters at once, when she was faltering just taking on one. Harry had always been a better dueler than she.

Neville was fighting ferociously to her left, with both sword and wand in hand, he dueled a particularly talented werewolf. The wizard shot a killing curse at him, and instead of trying to dodge the spell, he effortlessly blocked it with the sword of Gryffindor and cast a stunning jinx at the surprised man.

"You look a bit sick, mudblood, how long exactly do you think you will last against me?" Caesar asked coolly.

Hermione said nothing, forcing herself just to stay standing as she blocked another stunning jinx.

"I suppose they tortured you? Sloppy work, I'd say, but the members of Greyback's pack have never been ones for spell mastery, they rely mostly on the moon every month. You wouldn't be fighting, now, had a proper Death Eater been in charge of you," he said, forcing her back another step. She felt her back hit the wall.

He took another step forward, this time not casting any spell, but just walked up to her with his arm raised. Hermione couldn't summon anymore strength to fight him, or even raise her wand; she shook violently and tried to remain on her feet.

Caesar stopped, and touched his wand to her forehead, "You'll find that this has been a vacation, mudblood, compared to what will happen to you."

Then, as he opened his mouth to say a spell, a stunning curse hit him directly in his side, and he crumpled to the ground.

Hermione looked around the room, and saw that no more Death Eaters or werewolves were standing. Instead, she saw Ron rushing over to her with worry clear in his bright blue eyes.

Darkness overcame her before he got to her side.

X

X

Author's Note: When asked about why Harry would use the Cruciatus on someone when he is supposed to be the hero, J.K. Rowling replied that Harry is not perfect. I would like to say the same for Ron. In my opinion, Ron would never use the Cruciatus, as Harry would never use the killing curse. I think Ron is more capable of killing someone and being able to justify killing someone than Harry, because he is fiercely protective. He would be able to kill someone who he thought raped Hermione, just as I think he would be capable of killing Rowle from earlier in the story. He's not going to go killing everyone he sees, but if they mess with Harry, Hermione, or his family, you'd better believe that he'll be after them. If you'll recall, in Deathly Hallows, Hermione had to hold him back so that he wouldn't run off to kill Death Eaters after Fred died. It doesn't make him a bad person, it just makes him human.

Thank you again for all of the reviews, it makes me smile every time I recieve one. I am greedy though, so keep them coming.


	28. Awaken

"…Saint Mungos!"

"…NOW!..."

Nothing.

"Ron… just…"

Silence.

"…First Floor…"

Pain.

"…werewolf traits… like Bill..."

"… bites… scratches…"

"…raped?"

_I'm dying, _Hermione thought, _this is what it's like to die._

She was in a black void where nothing existed but pain, nothing mattered but… what did matter?

_I was so close, so close to getting out… Ron… Ron was there… how did Ron get there?_

"I almost… please tell me… okay… please," was that Ron's voice?

_Ron… I don't want him to see me die…_

Quiet.

"Hermione, please…"

Blackness.

Bellatrix… how did they get out of Malfoy Manor? Were they still there? But that would mean that Bellatrix still had Ron…

_Ron… get out of here… leave me, take Harry, and get out of here… Voldemort is coming…_

"…hate…"

Everything hurt so badly, why was it worth fighting so much pain? Wouldn't be better to die?

"…please wake up…" Harry?

Wake up… how could she wake up when she was dying?

"Hermione…" Ron, that was definitely Ron, but his voice sounded rougher than usual.

_Fight, _Hermione thought to herself.

_Fight what?_

_You've got to live._

_But why?_

_Harry needs you._

_He'll get by fine._

_Ron._

_He'll find someone else._

_Yourself then, fight for yourself._

_Why?_

_You have too much to live for._

_What if I fail?_

_Fail?_

"… how is she?"

"… moved… yet."

_Failure is awful._

_You can't fail then. Fight._

_To live?_

_To live._

"Hermione, you've got to wake up. We need you…"

_They need me… it hurts so badly… where am I?_

Malfoy Manor.

_That's right, I need to wake up… to help them get out…_

Quiet overcame her again, and she floated through the darkness and the pain, unsure of how to go about waking up.

_Wake up… I need to wake up…_

"I love you…"

_Wake up, wake up…_

"Hermione?"

_Fight._

X

X

Ron barely caught Hermione as she collapsed; her skin was pale and slick with sweat. She shook violently in his arms.

"We need to get her to Saint Mungos!" he shouted.

Harry was the first by his side, "Kingsley, is there an Anti-Disapperation Jinx on this place?"

"Yes, I'll disable it now, but it may take a few minutes."

"Minutes?" Ron asked incredulously, "We need to get her help, NOW!"

"I know, but I need to take down the jinx, and we need to move her as little as possible. I'll do it as fast as possible I assure you, and with Gerald and Hemler's help, we should be able to get it down quickly," he nodded to the other two Aurors that were with him, and at this signal they each began doing silent incantations in the air.

With Harry's help, Ron lowered Hermione slowly to the ground and laid her head gently on his lap. She let out the smallest of moans, but otherwise did not stir. With a soft touch, he brushed a damp curl from her face.

"Oh my god," Ginny said in a hushed tone, she knelt beside them, "Was she…?"

Ron followed her eyes, and nearly screamed at what he saw; the robe she was wearing had fallen open, underneath it she was dressed only in a severely torn shirt and a pair of knickers. Down the sides of both of her legs were four deep, parallel scratch marks that began at her hips and ended at her knee. Blood seeped from each cut and began pooling slowly on the brick floor beneath her.

"No, no, no, no, no, Hermione," Ron gripped her wrist with a shaking hand and held his breath until he felt the weak heartbeat, "Hurry, Kingsley!"

"Nearly there."

Ron chanced a look up, and met Harry's eyes, "She'll be fine, Ron. She's Hermione… she's got to be fine. Just… just keep holding her, alright?" his green eyes were filled with tears, and he looked away from Ron again and grasped Hermione's limp hand tightly, "She's got to be alright…"

"That's it!" Kingsley shouted, then he turned to the other orders, "Take all of the werewolves and Death Eaters into custody, scour the whole place top to bottom, don't miss a single thing. We need to know how they knew where Hermione's house was and when she was going to be there, and-"

Ron didn't hear the rest of what Kingsley said, because as soon as the words, 'that's it' came from his mouth, he scooped Hermione up into his arms, stood, and disapperated.

As soon as the receptionist saw Hermione, limp in Ron's arms, she rushed to them, shouting something over her shoulder that Ron couldn't make out.

Behind her, two Healers in lime green robes ran with a floating stretcher between them. As soon as they reached them, Ron set Hermione gently on the stretcher and explained quickly what he knew, "Werewolves took her, I don't know if she was bitten, she has scratches down her legs. I don't know anything else," he grabbed one of the wizard's arms tightly and said, "Please, you've got to help her."

He nodded, "I know what she has done, as well as you, I'll be damned if I don't try everything possible," he looked to the other Healer, "Let's get her to the First Floor."

Ron jogged after them, immensely grateful that they didn't make him wait in the lobby- being a war hero had its advantages. He barely noticed that Harry, Ginny, and Neville were right behind him.

They filed into the lift quickly, and as it rose the two Healers started inspecting Hermione. They pulled away the ratty cloak she wore and moved their wands slowly over her body, murmuring quietly as they went. Then two wizards looked up at each other, and the one who had spoken to Ron first said, "Extensive Cruciatus," his co-worker nodded in affirmation.

Ron's heart dropped sickeningly.

The lift opened, and they were off again, jogging after the Healers who had seemed to pick up their pace significantly.

"Has she been under the Cruciatus curse extensively in the past?"

When Ron couldn't find the strength to speak, Harry did for him, "Yes, she was interrogated by Bellatrix Lestrange."

Hermione jerked and moaned on the stretcher as they hurriedly rounded the corner. Anyone who saw them coming dodged out of the way.

"Lestrange… she has some reminisce of the dark magic in her system from that, and what happened today overloaded her… did you find her before or after she was rendered unconscious?"

"Before," Harry replied, "we were battling the werewolves and she was fighting with us, after the fight, she collapsed."

"She's probably going into shock… in here," the stretcher swerved quickly into an open room. One of the Healers stopped in front of the door while the other pulled the stretcher further into the room, "I'm sorry, but this is as far as you can go. I need you to wait down in the lobby; we will update you as soon as possible. We will do everything we can," and with that, he closed the door profoundly.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville stood together staring at the door longer than any one of them would later be able to recount. They were battle worn, and exhausted. Neville had yet to re-sheath the sword of Gryffindor, and held it in one hand with its gore covered tip resting on the white marble floor, and in at his side he held his wand loosely in his other hand. Harry's robes were torn and frayed, and he stood at Ron's side, looking so deep in thought that it seemed that he was elsewhere. Ginny stood with her fists clenched at her sides with a wand in either hand.

Finally, Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder, "Let's… let's go down to the lobby, like they said. There are probably people waiting to hear from us."

Ron nodded, and let himself be led away, through the hallway that seemed to be much longer when they walked it, into the lift, and into the lobby. He met no one's eyes, but simply flopped into a chair, and vaguely heard Neville sheath the sword of Gryffindor, and Harry quietly began explaining what he knew to the Weasley family, as well as Kingsley and Aurors that had gathered there.

_I was supposed to protect her. I was supposed to keep things from happening to her. And now she's… I was supposed to fucking take care of her. I promised her._

"I'm so sorry," a voice by his side whispered. Ron looked over and was surprised to see his father with tears in his eyes.

"What, dad?" Ron asked nervously, _Did the Healers tell him something? Oh god, what if-_

"I shouldn't have let her go," Mr. Weasley replied, "I should have told her to straight home. I waited with her until she sent off the owl; I thought that by the time that she got to the Visitor's exit and the apperated to her house that you would be there… I didn't think… I shouldn't have let her go."

"Dad," Ron ran the sleeve of his robes across his eyes and sniffed, "It's- not your fault… I don't know why her letter didn't get to us, but those bloody werewolves did this to her… it's not your fault- it's theirs."

Mr. Weasley nodded and squeezed Ron's shoulder reassuringly before sitting back down in a chair next to his distraught wife.

For half an hour, the waiting room was filled with people waiting impatiently for an update about Hermione; new arrivals to the hospital found that it was difficult to find a seat in the room. When a Healer came walking over, nearly everyone jumped to their feet, and Harry and Ron jogged over to meet her.

"She's stable, now," the witch told them, "she still hasn't woken up, so we are unsure how it has affected her mind as of yet. You can come see her now, though," she held up a hand when everyone began to move forward, "I'm sorry, we can't have all of you at once. Just Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter for now," when everyone sat back down in their seats, the witch smiled at Ron and Harry, "Follow me."

Again, they made the trek through the Ground floor and to the lift to the First Floor. Ron wished desperately that the witch would move faster; his heart pounded so violently that he was sure that it would snap his ribs.

Finally, they came to the same room that Hermione had disappeared into before. The witch opened it and gestured for them to go in.

Hermione was lying still on the hospital bed, her curly hair fanned out beneath her head, and her arms lay limply at her sides. She was so deathly pale that she looked as if she was dead, and Ron might have thought she was, if not for the slow movement of the white blankets that indicated her breathing.

His trainers felt like they were made of lead as he shuffled over to the bedside. He grasped her hand and held it tightly in both of his as he carefully watched her still face and the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

Harry took a seat on the other side of the hospital bed and took Hermione's other hand, he muttered, "It's like second year… except way worse… so much worse," He squeezed Hermione's hand tightly before looking up at the Healer that had yet to leave the room, "She had scratches… will she have werewolf traits like Bill does? Bill was attacked by Greyback while he was still in human form, so now he has a few wolfish traits."

"No, the werewolf passes things on like that through their bites. We examined her thoroughly, and all we found were scratches."

"Was she…" Ron choked on the word, "raped?"

The Healer stepped forward and put a comforting hand on his back, "No, she wasn't raped. There was excessive damage from the Cruciatus curse, as well as scarring from her last experience. We have healed what traces we can find, but we won't be able to be sure unless she wakes up; if she does, we will be able to further assess the damage."

"If?" Ron asked, "I almost… the last thing I did was try to kill her… she had her hood up, I thought she was the werewolf they said was raping her… she dodged my curses but…" he looked up at the Healer and wiped another tear from his eye, "Please tell me she's going to be okay… please. That can't be the last thing I ever did to her."

The witch patted his back and shook her head grimly, "I'm sorry, but I don't know if she will, Mr. Weasley. We did everything we could, but it's her fight now, I'm afraid. If she wakes, we can heal the remaining damage if there is any, but she has to be conscious. She has to fight… this is the hardest part with victims of extensive torture that have fallen unconscious… sometimes they don't want to fight."

Ron looked back down at Hermione, "She'll fight; she's Hermione, she'll fight with all she has."

The witch nodded solemnly, "I'll leave you alone. Shout immediately if she stirs even in the slightest," and at that, she took her hand way from Ron's back and left the room.

"Hermione, please, you've got to fight," Harry told her, not taking his eyes off of his friend, "You've got to, we'd be nowhere without you."

"Dead, probably," Ron whispered huskily, "Dead in a ditch."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, dead in a ditch."

"What if… what if she doesn't-"

"Don't say it, Ron," Harry cut across him, "She'll make it, she will."

Ron tore his eyes away from Hermione's face and looked up at his best mate, "I don't know what I'd do without her, mate."

Harry met his eyes, and let the fear he had been trying to deny out in two hushed words; "Me neither."

Ron reached over and brushed a stray hair out of Hermione's face, "You two are the ones who defeated You-Know-"

"Call him by his name, Ron," Harry snapped, "He's dead now. Hermione calls him by it. Voldemort."

Ron took a deep breath and let it out shakily, "Alright… V-V… Voldemort," it was a surprisingly empowering feeling, saying the name he had been taught to avoid his entire life, "You two are the ones who defeated… Voldemort… I was just the sidekick, really. Hermione's the brains, and you're The-Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived… and I'm just… Ron."

"Not true, mate," Harry replied, then he pointed to Hermione, "She wouldn't let you get away with it, so since she's not able to kick your arse right now, I will. You destroyed the locket horcrux; you thought of the fangs in the chamber of secrets and you were able to get in, and went I went a bit barmy over the Hallows, you were the one who kept us on track looking for the horcruxes. You played just as much of a part in it as we did."

After a moment, Ron nodded slowly, but said no more. He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of Hermione's hand and whispered, "I hate them."

"Me too," Harry replied, "Dumbledore always talked about the power of love… but right now all I feel is hate towards the people who did this to her. That's why I want to be an Auror; I want to stop this from happening to anyone else."

"When are you going to start?" Ron asked, "I agreed to start up as an Auror, but I don't know… if I can do it right now. Neville's already started up… hell… he carries a bloody sword around, but I don't know if I can, yet."

Harry flattened the sheets nervously with his palm, "I don't know when I'm going to start. Maybe when Ginny goes back to Hogwarts. I just want to enjoy life for a little while… I have never gotten to before..." He gently squeezed Hermione's hand again, "Hermione, you've got to wake up, please."

Ron touched Hermione's cheek, willing her to come back to him again; as he did, he thought about Harry's words. For the first time, he really realized the extent of Harry's life. He had lived in misery for eleven years, with no friends, in a cupboard under a staircase in the house of people who hated him. He hadn't had lively family dinners, he hadn't gone out outside and played Quidditch with his brothers, or played pranks on his stuffy older brother. He didn't have a mum, or a dad. Anyone who had come close to being a father to him had died. Ron realized at that moment the extent of his friend's loneliness, and thought that a few months off were just what he deserved.

Then there was Hermione, Ron realized with a sickening lurch that he didn't know what she had or hadn't done. In fact, he didn't know much about her life at all. He didn't know what her parents' names were, or if she had any friends outside of Hogwarts, or even what her favorite color was. He swore to himself that he would find out if… when… she awoke.

There was a small squeak of the door opening again, and when Ron looked over his shoulder, he saw Ginny enter, two wands clutched in her right hand, "How is she?"

"She hasn't even moved yet," Harry replied, "They said they can't help her any more until she wakes up."

Ginny walked over the Harry's side and sat on the arm of his chair while wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "I know, they came back down and told us after they brought you up."

"How'd they let you in?" Ron asked, "I thought there was a limit."

"There is," Ginny replied simply, "But I sneaked past," then she leaned forward and placed a hand on Hermione's arm, with her voice thick with emotion she told her friend, "Hermione, you've got to wake up; we need you."

"She'll be okay," Harry muttered, "She will. She's Hermione," he spoke to her again, "Come on, Hermione. Fight it. I love you like a sister; I can't lose you. We can't lose you."

They sat staring down at their friend, hoping for her to give one sign of life, then, Ron felt pressure grow around his hand. When he looked down, Hermione's hand was gripping his tightly, "Hermione?"

He looked up at Harry with wide eyes, "Get a Healer!" he shouted, "NOW!"


	29. Swimming Up a Waterfall

Fighting the pain was worse, much worse, than letting it take her down into oblivion. With every inch of ground she made, it seemed that the pain intensified. It was more difficult than moving against the flow of a river; it was like swimming up a waterfall. The voices she heard spurred her to keep fighting.

"Hermione? Hermione, can you hear me?"

She became aware that she was holding onto something, she tightened her grip on whatever it was like it was the only thing tethering her to life.

"Hermione, you've got to wake up," the voice sounded desperate and panicked, "That's the only way they can help you."

"Ms. Granger, I need you to open your eyes. We can make the pain go away, but we need you to be completely conscious or the spells would kill you," this voice sounded kindly, and calm; it was soothing, but Hermione found herself more comforted by the first voice, and the warmth of whatever was in her hand.

"Open your eyes, Hermione," the first voice pleaded, "please; you've got to open your eyes."

She then identified the voice that comforted her so: Ron.

"Come on, Hermione, come on," Ron whispered, and Hermione felt a responding squeeze on her hand.

Pain shot through her body like lightening; the dark magic tried to pull her down like quicksand. Her body jerked and shook violent, but the movement seemed alien to her, like the only thing that existed was that constant pressure on her hand.

To her despair, Hermione felt her energy faltering, and the morass of dark magic started dragging her back down at an alarming rate. She felt everything begin to fade away, and her hand went slack.

"Hermione!" No, Hermione! Come back, you were almost there, come back!"

"Ms. Granger, I need you to open…" the calm voice continued talking, but Hermione no longer could distinguish the words, the whole world was diminishing.

Then, with a last surge of desperate energy, Hermione slammed all of her mental strength against the pull of the magic.

X

X

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and stared wildly at the ceiling.

Immediately, all three Healers bent over her and began casting smells rapidly over her. Ron then remembered what the witch had told him; "If she wakes up, you need to make sure she stays that way until we have finished with our spell-work. Make sure she doesn't even close her eyes; she could easily be pulled back into the clutches of the dark magic if she does, and our spells eradicating that magic would kill her."

"Hermione, Hermione you need to stay awake," he told her, his shaking voice betrayed how terrified he was, "Keep your eyes open, stay awake. You need to."

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and gripped his hand so tightly that her nails dug painfully into his skin. Her other hand fisted in the sheets as she arched her back and cried out in agony.

"Just one more moment, Ms. Granger," the female Healer, along with one of the other wizards, had stopped casting spells. Only one Healer continues spinning an invisible web of incantations.

Then, with a quick horizontal slashing motion, he lowered his wand, and Hermione let out a loud gasp. Her breast heaved as she took in deep, trembling breaths. She closed her eyes and her body relaxed as she caught her breath; Ron looked to the witch Healer for guidance, but she just whispered, "It's alright now, let her rest. We will go update the others and let Mr. Potter… and I suppose we can fudge the rules a bit and allow Ms. Weasley in as well. I will be back after I have updated everyone, and will run a few mental tests; physically, she is in the clear."

Ron nodded numbly and turned his gaze back to Hermione; his heart hammered violently in his chest, and his arms and legs felt numb as his body calmed rapidly, _She's alright… she's alright, _in a wave of dizziness, he leaned forward and laid his head on the edge of the bed while pressing his cheek to her clammy hand.

After a few moments of silence, Ron heard Hermione pant, "Ron?"

He sat up and scooted his chair closer to her bed, "Yeah Hermione?"

"Why… did… you bring me here?"

"What do you mean? You were going to die if I didn't."

She opened her eyes again and looked up at him like he was mad, "Ron… we're all going to be dead… if he finds us."

"If who finds us, Hermione? What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort," she whispered, then her eyes grew wide with horror, "Ron… where's Harry? Did he… oh god," she took in another gasp of breath, "Did he not get out? Is he still at the Malfoy's? Ron, help me up, we have to go save him," she tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but halfway up she fell heavily back down into the bed, "I c-can't apperate like this… I'm going to have to side- along with-"

Ron's heart dropped, and he remembered what the Healer had said before she left, _They need to run mental tests… oh god…_,"Hermione, where do you think we just were?"

Her brow furrowed, "I was at the Malfoy's, and Bellatrix was interrogating me. How did we get out?"

Ron buried his face in his hands, he peeked at her between his fingers before he lowered his hands again, "Harry killed Voldemort more than two weeks ago, Hermione. Please tell me that you remember that."

Her eyes widened, "What are you talking about, Ron? I would remember something like that. Why else would I be in Saint Mungos?"

"You were kidnaped, by the werewolves that used to follow Greyback, they were led by Lycian."

X

X

"Lycian," Hermione hissed; the name triggered everything that had left her mind. The horrid memory of destroying the Horcrux, kissing Ron, Fred dying, Harry being carried- seemingly dead- in Hagrid's arms, Voldemort falling profoundly in death, seeing the Bellatrix Bogart rise before her, fighting death eaters, crying in Ron's arms, kissing Ron again, everything that had happened flashed back into her mind with an overwhelming force.

"I remember," she whispered, "I remember…" she looked back up at Ron, and felt a wave of nausea come over her when she saw the terrified look in his eyes, he had thought that she had lost her mind… and she had, even if only for a little while: it horrified her.

"How did you find me?" she asked, exhaustion threatened to overcome her, but she couldn't sleep, not just yet.

Ron's shoulder's sagged in relief, and he looked down at her hand that he still held in his, "We saw your message on the wall; earlier today the werewolves attacked a squad of Aurors just a mile north of Hogsmead, so we started looking around there. I… chanced upon where they had you."

Hermione nodded, and fought against the fatigue when she reached over and touched his cheek, "Thank you," she whispered, "I was able to stop one of them from… raping me… but when I got out to where the rest of them were… there were too many, I didn't know what to do."

"I was so scared, Hermione," he replied in an equally hushed voice, "I thought that you were being-" he sniffed and rubbed his reddening eyes, "I couldn't lose you… I already lost Fred, I couldn't-"

"Shhhhh," she stroked his bright red hair gently, "I wasn't and I'm fine. You got to me in time, I'm fine."

He looked back up at her, and shivered at the pained look in her eyes- most of the pain had gone, but there was still something intense there; Ron suspected that it had little to do with physical pain.

Ron reached out and touched the base of where he remembered the long scratches being on her legs; he imagined that they had been healed to be only long white scars, "You're not fine. What… what did they do to you?" he felt that he did not want to know the answer, but that he had to.

She stared back at him for a few moments before finally saying, "They didn't rape me."

"I know they didn't, but… bloody hell I saw the scratches down your legs Hermione, and they said extensive Cruciatus…"

Hermione leaned her head back, closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, "They-"

"Hermione," Harry's voice said quietly- sounding thick with relief, Ron turned to see Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Mrs. Weasley standing at the doorway; it appeared that the Healers had allowed more than a small stretch of the rules.

Harry smiled when Hermione looked over to him, swept across the room, bent over her bedside and pulled her into a gentle embrace; Ron felt a small pang of jealousy when he saw her close her eyes and hug him back, but he forced the feeling away.

Harry pulled back a smiled even more brightly at her, "I'm so glad you're okay…" he paused, "I seem to remember you threatening me with my life if I ever scared you again like I did when I pretended to be dead… I'd say we're even now, yeah?"

Hermione touched Harry's shoulder affectionately and smiled, "Yeah, I'd say we are," her gaze turned to Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and Neville, all three of which had walked further into the room with expressions of great relief at seeing Hermione conscious and talking, "Thank you… for being here."

Ginny grinned and shook her head, "We're the only ones that were allowed to come in here; Bill, dad, Fleur, and Percy were all here, too, along with Kingsley and a handful of Aurors."

Without warning, Mrs. Weasley rushed over to Hermione's bedside and wrapped her in a hug that was not nearly as gentle as Harry's had been. Hermione tried and failed to contain a gasp of pain. Mrs. Weasley released Hermione and jumped back like she had been burned, she wiped a laced white handkerchief across her eyes and sobbed, "I'm sorry dear… it's just that I'm so happy to see that you're alright. When your tine pointed to Mortal Peril I was so-" she took a moment to blow her nose.

"My what?" Hermione asked.

"Mrs. Weasley put tines for you, me, and Fleur on the family clock," Harry replied softly, he had moved to sitting at the foot of her bed.

Hermione gasped, "Mrs. Weasley, that's-" her own eyes started to water, and she waved her hand near her face as if to banish them away, "That's lovely."

"You're family, dear," she replied, seeming to have regained her composure, "I'm just glad that I put them on when I did, or we wouldn't have known…"

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked over to Ron, who had not taken his eyes from her since the other four walked in, "I sent you an owl… and a patronus…"

"Dad told us that you sent an owl, but we never got one," Ron replied, "And we didn't get a patronus message either."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, the same way she always did when facing a problem she couldn't immediately solve, "That doesn't make any sense… it's impossible to intercept or stop a patronus charm message…" she shook her head again, adding it onto her mental list of things to do and to research… there was still so much to do.

She seemed to notice Neville was in the room for the first time, he stood a bit further back from everyone else, with his hand resting on the pommel of the sword of Gryffindor, "Oh, Neville, how is Hannah?"

Neville's face reddened, "Hannah who?" his voice squeaked slightly, allowing a bit of his old, nervous self to shine through.

Hermione smiled weakly and Ron noticed her eyelids flutter a bit: betraying how fatigued she was, "Oh, Neville, I saw you talking with Hannah Abbott the day after the battle, you've always fancied her, haven't you?"

His jaw dropped, "How did you know?"

Before Hermione could answer, Ron interjected, "She's Hermione, she knows bloody everything… Hermione, you look a bit knackered, you need to rest like the Healer said…"

Hermione at first looked like she was going to argue with him, but yawned and leaned back on the pillow, "Alright, I suppose… I suppose I will," she then leaned towards Ron, "Stay with me?" she asked so quietly that only Harry could hear- and he had the decency to pretend that he didn't.

Ron nodded, "Yeah, I will, until you want me to leave… or until I have to take a piss… whichever comes first. But I promise I'll come back as soon as I take a piss, if it comes down to it."

Hermione closed her eyes, "Charming."

X

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Author's note: I love all of your reviews; I am completely sincere when I say that each and every one of them makes my day when I read them. Keep them coming, and if you happen to add my story to your favorites… or suggest it to a friend… well… I promise I won't complain.

I haven't been updating as fast as I used to, or as fast as I would like to. Lots of drama has been going on, as my charming narcissistic father has deemed that I am a liar who uses people and is only in a relationship with him because of his money (though I receive no money from him, and live with my mother full time), and is now threatening to not help pay for my college education if I do not start telling him what he would like to hear. Being the stubborn person I am, I have decided exactly where he can shove his money, and that I will pay for it myself, no matter how long it takes to pay off student loans. So, long story short: I have been quite busy with researching and applying for different scholarships and grants, along with doing monotonous piles of homework. Wish me luck, and I will do my best to keep updating as quickly as I can.


	30. Stop the Guilt

_Go find Potter on your own… that's what they said… this is my fault. They must have taken her to get to me, just like Rowle tried to. This is my fault. Everyone close to me seems to get hurt. It's my fault, what happened to her._

Harry started when something touched his arm.

"You alright?" Ginny whispered, "You seem a bit wonky."

Ron glanced over his shoulder at them for a moment, before training his gaze back on the lift across from the lobby. The Healer had kicked them all out, saying that they weren't allowed in the room during the mental test. Hermione had told Ron quietly, when he had started to argue, to listen to the Healer; since he had grudgingly agreed, he had been keeping an fervent watch on the lift for anyone who might be able to tell him that he could go back up.

Harry looked down and shook his head, "It's my fault, what happened to Hermione."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked.

"Didn't you hear them? 'Go find Potter on your own'… they must have taken her to get to me. She was tortured, Ginny, and almost died, because of me."

Ginny sighed quietly, then craned her neck to look around the room. Mrs. Weasley had gone just a few minutes before to update the rest of the family, and Neville had gone an hour earlier to check up with the rest of the Auror department: they had brought in nearly all of the werewolves and the four Death Eaters in for questioning, and needed all the help they could get- he had said.

Ron sat rigid in front of them, paying them little mind as he watched carefully for a Healer that would allow him to go back up to Hermione's room, or tell him that he could take her home.

Abruptly, Ginny grabbed Harry's arm again and stood up, dragging him up with her.

"Wha-"

She shot him a glare that stopped him mid-word, then looked over to her brother again- he didn't seem to notice- or care- that they had risen from their seats. Then, she tightened her already viselike grip on Harry's arm, and pulled him stumbling out of the lobby, down the long entryway, out of the hospital, and around a corner, and down an alleyway- by the looks she shot him over her shoulder, he knew not to question her.

But when she pushed him forcefully up against the wall, holding him by the front of his shirt fiercely, he finally said, "Ginny, what are you doing?"

"I needed to take you somewhere where there would be no witnesses if I end up killing you."

"W-"

Her eyes blazed, "You're not allowed to blame yourself anymore; I don't know how many times you have told me that it was your fault that Fred died. I don't want any more apologies from you, got it?"

"Ginny, I-"

"No. No, you listen to me, Harry. This was not your fault, just like everything else that has happened because of Voldemort and the Death Eaters was not your fault. Death Eaters killed Fred- you didn't. Those werewolves took and hurt Hermione- you didn't," a rare tear slid down her cheek, "I love you, Harry, and I hate it when you put blame for such horrible things at your own feet. It's. Not. Your. Fault."

Harry was taken aback that she had started calling Voldemort by his name, but didn't let on when he said, "I'm sorry, Ginny."

She looked up at him with moist eyes and smirked, Harry couldn't help but think about how beautiful she was, "Are you deaf? I just told you that I don't want any more apologies… unless I ask for it… or unless you're being a tosser."

Harry chuckled and brushed a renegade strand of red hair away from her face, "Got it- no apologies unless you ask- or unless you think I am being a git."

"Right. And stop blaming yourself, too."

Harry grimaced, "I don't know if I can do that. If it weren't for me-"

"Stop!" she twisted her fists in his shirt angrily, "If it weren't for you, we'd still be stuck with bloody Voldemort! Ever think about that?"

"That doesn't change that it's because of me that Lupid, and Tonks, and countless others are dead!" Harry gritted his teeth, as much as he loved Ginny, she just didn't _get it_.

"And how many others would be dead, too, if not for what you did? My whole family would have been killed, not to mention what they would do to Hermione. Just imagine everyone who fought with us- dead, without what you did!" her eyes seemed to spark with anger, "Harry, I finally have you back, and you're alive. After all of that, you're alive. Can you please let me just… have you? Without the guilt, or the apologies, or the…" she wiped another tear from her eyes and seemed to recollect herself, "I need you to help me get through losing my brother. How can you do that if you're blaming yourself for his death?"

"I can't just stop being guilty."

"Yes, you can!"

"Can you stop being sad that Fred died?" Harry regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her, "I'm sorry."

She snaked her arms around his back and mumbled into his shoulder, "Didn't I tell you to stop apologizing?"

"Except for when I'm a prat… that was a pretty pratish thing to say, I figure."

"No," she pulled away just enough to look up at him, and close enough to remain in her embrace, "No, I was the prat. I don't have a right to tell you how to feel. I just… I just hate it when you blame yourself for things that weren't your fault."

Harry pulled her closer to him once again and buried his face in her hair, "I know."

If anyone saw them in that alleyway, they would have merely seen the silhouette of a silent couple tenderly embracing, swaying to and fro gently for several minutes without a word, neither wanting to break the spell that time had seemed to weave about them- keeping them both separated from the world and thus from the pain of their reality. There was no death, or sadness, or torture, or loss. It was just them, until Harry finally pulled away.

"We should probably go back in, yeah?" he said.

"Yeah, Hermione's mental test might be done now, and the Healer said that we could probably take her home shortly after."

Harry offered her his arm, she took it, and leaned against him as they walked, "I'm glad that she'll at least be alright enough to go home so soon. In a Muggle hospital, she would be in there for days, at least."

Ginny snorted, "Muggles, I don't know how you lived with them, they're awfully slow."

"That wasn't the worst thing about living with the ones I lived with," Harry almost halted with the sudden realization that he wouldn't ever have to go back to live with the Dursleys': never. And even though Death Eaters were still on the loose, Voldemort was gone. His life, for the first time, belonged completely to him. He could do whatever he wanted with it. The idea was… liberating.

"Good thing you had my house to come to during the summer, eh? You should have heard mum before you came. All the time, she would rant and rave about how underfed you were, and how awful those muggles treated you, and that if Dumbledore didn't bring you back or have someone bring you back soon, that she was going to go there and get you herself, whether it broke the protective spell or not."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and grinned, "She considers you her son, you know. When she heard that we started dating, she was ecstatic. You don't even want to know the embarrassing things she said in the letter she sent me. Damn Fred and George, I don't know how they found out, but as soon as they did, they sent a letter to mum telling her allll about it, and then some," she grimaced slightly after she realized that she had been speaking of Fred, but banished whatever thought she had and smiled again, though it seemed less sincere.

Together, they stepped up and through the window of the empty looking, red bricked department building, and right into Ron on the other side.

"Where the bloody hell have you two been?" he asked, "You know what, never mind, I don't want to know. Come on, they're going to bring Hermione down and we can take her home," he started briskly walking down the corridor, and when he deemed that they weren't moving quickly enough, he growled over his shoulder, "Come on!" and then he picked up his pace.

By the time they made it into the lobby, they were nearly jogging just to keep up with Ron's long, quick strides.

"Hermione," Ron sighed with relief. She was sitting in one of the lobby chairs, looking weak, and pale, but she seemed to be herself. She was smiling slightly and looking up at a Healer with a clipboard in his hand. They were talking pleasantly.

In mid-sentence, her eyes wondered over to where the three of them stood, and she ceased talking and smiled graciously at them. Though her smile was radiant, it didn't quiet seem to meet her tired eyes.

Ron seemed to notice this as well, and picked up his pace; even the small clipping sound of his footsteps spoke to his worry.

Before they had hurried Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley out of the room, one of the Healers had warned them that the questioning could cause a relapse; one not as dangerous as the situation had been before- since the dark magic was gone- but a major setback. Harry hadn't understood most of it, but they had said something about magical scarring that remained from the incident that could be compromised during the mental test.

"Hermione, how did it go? Are you able to…" Ron's face suddenly turned ashen, and he stared, not at Hermione, but at the wizard's clipboard. The Healer noticed quickly, and pulled the face of the clipboard up to his chest. Ron snapped his eyes back up to Hermione, "Are y-you able to c-come home? Now?"

"Yes, they gave me the okay," she replied weakly, "They said that I'm not allowed to apperate or even side-along for a week, except for in emergencies. So I'll have to Floo."

"How did it…" Ron swallowed and ran his hand back through his hair, "Go?"

"Fine," she said, her voice a little higher than normal, she glanced at the Healer, who nodded, and back to Ron, "It went… fine."

The Healer cleared his throat, "Mrs. Weasley, filled out the necessary paperwork before she left, and we gave her the necessary potions and instructions. You're free to go," he smiled at Hermione, "Take it easy for the next week, Ms. Granger. We will see you again seven days from now for a final checkup."

She nodded, and started to try to push herself to her feet, but her arms shook and she collapsed into it again with a frustrated sigh.

Ron sprung forward and tenderly helped her to her feet. She whispered a soft thanks in his ear as he helped her over to one of the hospital's fireplaces. He helped her into one of them, and handed her a fistful of Floo Powder. She leaned against the inside of the fireplace and threw the powder down.

"The Burrow!"

X

X

Author's note: Thank you so much for all of your supportive reviews. I have been working intermittently for days on this chapter, which is quite ridiculous considering how short it is, but be kind, I have been running on zero energy and have only been able to work on it at night. I hope you like it! I really loved writing the Ginny and Harry moment. I hope that I did their characters justice.

I know this is a Hermione/Ron fic, and I will go back to them next chapter. But, as I said in a previous A/N, I will switch around to other characters on occation. I love Harry and Ginny, and am sad to find that good fan fictions with them are rare. I hope you're not too mad at me for moving away from outr favorite pairing for a chapter.


	31. You Make Things Better

_In the womb, when shared by two or more identical fetuses- both of which must have magical abilities- a magical bond is formed; it is called __**Daltera Animi**__, also known as- in colloquial terms- a 'shared soul', though this is not entirely correct. Each witch or wizard born in Daltera Animi has their own complete soul, but their soul becomes interlinked with their sibling's within the first trimester. _

_We shall use magical twins as an example from now on; though note that the same is the case for triples, quadruplets, and so on._

_At birth, if one of the twins does not survive, the living child will become despondent and inconsolable- they often will cry constantly and resist nursing within at least the first month after the loss; there have been accounts of children going to such an extreme level of grief that they die of self-neglect, despite the parents' best efforts._

_Throughout development, the Daltera Animi will strengthen considerably if they are often within close proximity of one another, as the magical bond of their souls will further interlock. There have been numerous reports of a certain amount of telepathy developing between twins around the age of five, and from that age- if the twins continue to interact often- their closeness will increase dramatically, usually peaking around adolescence. Let it also be noted that the Daltera Animi becomes evident as soon as birth (though it has been debated that it starts beforehand, as expectant mothers of twins have reported that they will often kick at the same time); when one child cries, the other often becomes equally distressed…_

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from _Magical Connections, Natural and Cast: From Birth to the Unbreakable Vow_, to see Ron standing at the foot of her bed. She jumped when she saw him: she hadn't heard him come in; she had been too engrossed in the book.

"Sorry, did I scare you?"

"No," she set her book open and face down on her lap so that it would hold her place, "I just didn't hear you come in."

The right corner of his mouth tugged up weakly in a halfhearted attempt to smile, "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine, just a little tired," she replied, "Reziriserum takes a lot out of me… nevermind that, is something wrong?"

Ron sat down heavily on the edge of her bed, and looked down at his hands, which he rubbed together nervously, "Hermione… I saw something on that Healer's clipboard… two days ago when we were about to leave the hospital…"

Hermione knew then, why he had been so out of character the last two days, he had been sullen, and withdrawn. He rarely left her side, but even so, he seemed that he was always somewhere else in his mind. She took a deep breath, "What did you see?" she knew the answer, but held out a small hope that she was wrong.

"It said-" he cleared his throat, "It said… I saw the words… 'sexual assault'… what did they do to you Hermione? They said that you weren't ra-… _that_…"

"No, I wasn't raped," Hermione replied carefully while absentmindedly stroking the spine of her book.

Ron rested his elbows on his knees and stared down at the floor, his red hair shielded his eyes from hers, "What did they do?"

Hermione took a deep breath, "They… Lycian… Ron, do I have to say it?"

He looked over at her, and to her surprise, they were wet with tears, "Please, Hermione, I need to know."

Hermione had seen Ron in nearly every mood, and every extreme. She had seen him caring, and compassionate. She had seen him brave, and daring. She had seen him angry, and irritated. She had seen him in giddy with delight after winning a Quidditch tournament. She had seen him in anguish over the death of his brother. But she had never seen him look so broken before… well… maybe once, in a shadow of a memory that she couldn't quite grasp, but for some reason, when she tried to think of it, she thought of crashing waves.

"Why? Why do you need to know?"

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, "I just… I need to, alright?"

Hermione pushed herself up into a sitting position, cursing Reziriserum for what felt like the hundredth time. The potion helped strengthen weak points left by the Cruciatus curse. It was an effective potion, but it took a full week to complete, and it took a great amount of energy out of whoever consumed it, so that the body could be fully preoccupied with healing.

She took her book off of her lap, placed the scrap piece of paper she used as a bookmark inside it, and set it on the bedside table.

Tenderly, she touched his back, "Tell me why."

He let out a trembling breath and ran his hand through his hair. He looked strikingly like his mother in that moment, with shadows beginning to form under his slightly bloodshot eyes; it seemed that he had not slept for two days, "I don't know. It's just that… I know that I don't want to know, that it's probably going to be as painful as hell to know, but… I just feel like I have to. Because no matter how painful… I need to know who I have to bloody kill, eh?" Ron glanced at her to see if she had in any way appreciated his feeble attempt to lighten the mood. When he saw that she was still staring at him expectantly, he continued, "I need to know, because… because…" he tapped his foot lightly on the floor as he tried to search for the right words, "because it happened to you, alright? I need to know, because I don't really know what to do if I stay not knowing. Does that make sense? Or do I just sound mental?"

Hermione was touched by his words, as ineloquent as they may have been. She understood what he couldn't find the words for.

"You don't sound mental, Ron," she replied softly, "Not in the slightest… alright, I'll tell you. But I need you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"Don't treat me differently because of it."

There was a small pause before he replied, "Alright, but only if you promise me something, too."

"Yes?"

"Talk to me, about it," he said, "Instead of pretending that nothing is wrong. I used to think that there was nothing worse than when you cry, but when you were like that after the battle at Hogwarts… it was worse."

Another pause, "I promise," she said.

Hermione sighed and pulled her knees to her chest; "I apperated to my house, and waited in the front yard for a while, and after you didn't come, I sent my patronus. I waited for a while longer, and I was about to give up and come back here when my neighbor started rushing over…." She straightened abruptly, "Mrs. Burbacheck! She was in my house, I stunned-"

"She's fine," Ron assured her, "One of the Aurors found her hiding in the closet. They modified her memories and sent her home."

Hermione relaxed again and rested her chin on her knees, "Oh good… anyway, she was rushing over, and hurried into the house. I didn't know what to do, until she started screaming… I thought that maybe… maybe she had come across my parents… dead. I went in, I shouldn't have; I was so stupid…"

"Don't call yourself that."

"When I ran into my parents' room, I was ambushed by three werewolves-"

"Three? Bloody hell Hermione…"

"I was able to fight my way out. One of them fell; I don't know if I hit him with a stunning spell or something worse…"

"He's dead."

"Dead," Hermione repeated. It was interesting to her, that throughout the entire war, she had never killed anyone. The knowledge that she had actually taken a life sickened her unexpectantly. She didn't understand why it bothered her so greatly, considering what he would have done to her, but she couldn't shake the horrible feeling. Tears stung her eyes, "I remember now, the werewolves said that he was dead… I was too busy trying to get free to take much notice… I didn't use a killing curse. How did he die?"

"His robes were singed from a fire, and part of his torso was gone… they said that it looked like the Reductor Curse… he deserved to die," Ron told her, "Do you know what he would have done to you if he had the chance? He deserved what he got; him, and that whole lot."

Hermione nodded and wiped her eyes, "I ran as fast as I could away from them. I almost made it to the door when Lycian used a Knockback Jinx, disarmed, and used Incarcerus on me before I could get my footing. After talking to the other werewolves and finding out that the other was dead, he came over and shoved me against the wall," she touched her arm, and nearly felt his gnarled fingernails biting into her flesh again.

"He told me that they had been waiting for me, that they were hoping to capture you and Harry as well, but that they were mostly after me."

"Why?" Ron asked, horrified.

"Lycian said that Greyback was obsessed with me… after capturing us the first time. Said that I would be the perfect example, for what happens to Mudbloods and anyone who opposes the werewolf regime."

Ron growled and clenched his fists tightly, but otherwise said nothing.

"Then he…" Hermione closed her eyes, "He…"

"He what?"

"He said that Greyback encouraged them to follow their primal urges… particularly lust. Then…" she took a deep breath and did her best to regain her composure, "He touched me… through my trousers."

Air hissed through Ron's teeth, "Damn them all to hell."

Hermione didn't stop, knowing that she would not be able to continue if she did, "He said that they didn't bite people, when they weren't in wolf form. Something about not being 'enlightened' enough. I guess he was angry about it, because… he grabbed my… my breast… I think I have cuts from it. Then we disapperated.

"The next thing I remember, I woke up in a small room, with Lycian above me. He said that in three weeks, when the moon was full, that they would make an example of me. Then he kissed me."

"I'm going to fucking-"

"So I bit his tongue as hard as I could."

"Brilliant," Ron abruptly got to his feet and started angrily pacing, he gestured wildly as he stormed around the room, "Why don't they just give it a fucking break? Why don't they just leave us alone? Or you alone, at least. If those sick bastards ever worm their way out of Azkaban I swear I'll-"

"Do you want to hear the rest, Ron? If I stop now, I don't think I'll be able to go on."

He stopped and looked at her, anger sparked like the beginnings of a wildfire in his bright blue eyes, "Go on."

"After I bit him, he was… a bit angry. He started with Cruciatus. He did it over, and over, and over again. And not in short bursts like Bellatrix did, he didn't need any answers from me, so why would he? I don't remember all of what he said or what I did; it went on for so long, I had trouble remembering anything during it, even who I was… and that's when I started going mad."

"You're not mad," Ron said, a bit too harshly.

"I started to go, Ron. I started shouting 'we found it, we found it, it's a copy'; I didn't even know what it meant. The only thing that went through my mind was that it helped stop the pain last time. I really started to go mad… when I came to my senses, I was terrified."

Ron strode over to her bedside and sat on his knees in front of her on the bed, "You're brilliant, Hermione. You're not mad. You're brilliant, alright?"

Hermione closed her eyes and continued, "He slapped me, and it brought me out of my… temporary loss of sanity. I kept telling myself to get his wand, just get his wand, but he kept a tight hold on it, and I knew that if I tried to tear it out of his hands, he would not only be able to keep it from me, but he would be more careful about keeping it away from me.

"His second in command called in from the other side of the door, told him that the Death Eaters were there and demanded to speak with him. Lycian walked out, and I heard him tell him to do whatever he wanted with me quickly and to be sure that I didn't lose my fight."

Ron was shaking in silent fury; Hermione continued on quietly, "The second in command came in, and started undressing me. He tore my jeans off, then pulled my knickers down," Hermione ran her fingers from her his to her knee on one leg, where she knew the white scars of the scratches remained, even after the Healers had healed the wounds.

"I had a plan; when he was undressing me I fought as hard as I could. I knew I wouldn't be able to get away from him by strength alone, so I inched my way over to where he had tossed his robes. I was able to get his wand without him noticing, and stunned him… from there, I put on his robes and went out into the hallway, and not too long after that, you came in."

Hermione looked to the wall, unwilling to meet Ron's eyes. Luna hadn't lied when she had said she had become adept in construction spells. She had expertly, though characteristically bizarrely, guided Harry and Ginny in re-erecting the wall that the Death Eaters had blown apart. It stood as sturdy, if not sturdier, has it had been before. Luna had taken the liberty of repainting the wall. Instead of repainting it the same simple beige that it had been before: it was a brilliant blue. Upon it, she had painted a wispy silver horse rearing up, in an almost eerily accurate depiction of Ginny's patronus. Its eyes seemed alive and they blazed brightly and intelligently as they stared out from the wall. Hermione had found it strange, but comforting company in her days of bedrest.

Ginny had said that it was absolutely brilliant, to which Luna had replied, "That's nice." Hermione remembered with affection what Luna had painted on her own ceiling.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get there sooner, Hermione," Ron finally choked out, "I heard you disapperating, when I got to your house. I was just a few seconds too late," he closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I should have gotten there sooner, I should have been faster, I should have… I should have… bloody hell, I'm so fucking sorry."

Hermione placed a hand on his knee, "Ron, look at me."

After a few moments, he did as she said.

She peered into his eyes intently as she said, "You did the best that you could. And if not for you, who knows what would have happened to me, what _would_ be happening to me. Thank you, for saving me."

A small smile formed on his lips, "I didn't save you much. You know, Mum used to tell us stories, about blokes who would save girls. You know The Warlock and the Sorceress and stories like that? But you already had yourself pretty much sorted, before we got there. You're brilliant; I bet you would have had yourself out of there in a few seconds. You don't seem to ever need saving... actullay, you seem to be the one saving me and Harry all the time."

"I suppose," she replied, "but you always make things a lot easier, and a lot… better. Everything seems a bit better with you there."

X

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Author's Note: I think- whereas Harry is capable of using the Cruciatus and Imperious curses, and Ron is capable of killing and capable of justifing doing so- that Hermione could not, with a sound conscience, preform any of the Unforgivables. Out of the three, she is the one who has the most black and white, clearcut picture of right and wrong. Though she could kill someone, if that was the only logical way out of a situation, I think that no matter what, she would always be bothered about taking a life, no matter who it was (except, perhaps, Voldemort. I think she could do that with a pretty sound conscience, but he is less than human). So that is why I have her bothered that she killed that man; even though, if he had the chance, he would have done his very worst to her.

Suprisingly, my favorite thing to write in this chapter was the exerpt from _Magical Connections, Natural and Cast: From Birth to the Unbreakable Vow, _it was actually really fun to write, and not at all as difficult to come up with as I thought it would be. I did my best to write in such a way that it actually sounded like a professional on the subject wrote it, and I think I did a good job at it.

Thank you again for all of the reviews, I love you all, and I hope you liked this chapter.


	32. Sprinklers

Standing up, with his large calloused hands on either side of the papers, Kingsley poured over the large stack of reports. He stared down fiercely at the work; his arms were locked and tense. He looked much like a man trying to force himself off a cliff and to his doom, instead of one reading reports.

It was a day that he wished to still be in the Auror department, one of many. Rebuilding the wizarding community in England seemed a daunting and impossible task. When he has accepted the post, he had expected it to be a difficult one, no doubt; he had expected it to be a formidable task, of course; but he had never expected it to consist of so much bloody paperwork.

Paperwork. The very thought made him shudder and filled him with the intense desire to stage his own death and go into hiding for the rest of his days.

He had never aspired to be the Minister of Magic; he had always dreamed of ascending to the position of Head of the Auror Department, but no more. He wanted his life to be full of action, of taking down the type of people who would do the same that Artemus Grewl had done to his mother so many years ago. No, he had never even put thought to becoming the Minister of Magic, but who was he to refuse when the wizarding community needed his help? Who else was there to answer the call?

Blasted paperwork.

"Minister?" Gwendolyn's voice reverberated through the room.

Kingsley rose to his full height and placed his wand to his throat, "Yes, Gwen?"

"Hermione Granger is here to see you; she says that you told her to come in today?"

Kingsley clicked his teeth: Hermione Granger? Why would she be here? She had been taken by the werewolves only three days ago, and Mr. Weasley had informed him that it would be a week until she regained full strength. He remembered that he had told her to meet him at nine in the morning, and a glance at his watch told him that it was exactly nine, but that was before she had been kidnapped… surely…

"Did you ask her the questions I gave you, Gwen?" he asked with his wand at his throat again.

"Yes Minister, and she answered all of them correctly."

"Alright… send her in then."

The heavy doors swung open at the points of the two guarding Aurors' wands. They nodded respectfully at Kingsley before resuming their posts on either side outside of it. A few moments passed before Hermione came through the open doors.

Dark circles were evident beneath her bright eyes, and her hair seemed more frazzled than normal. In her right hand, she held a dark oak cane; he assumed she used it for support, but at the moment she seemed not need it. She smiled brightly at Kingsley as the double doors swung closed behind her, "Good Morning, sir."

Kingsley gestured for her to sit, and she gladly resigned to one of the chairs in front of his desk, and he sat back down in his own, "Good Morning, Hermione. I'm surprised to see you here, after Monday."

She smiled, but her voice was serious when she said, "I never miss an appointment, Kingsley, sir."

"Admirable," he replied, "I would make good use of someone like you on the Auror force, are you quiet sure you'd not like to join?"

She shook her head, "That's not the place for me, Kingsley. I want to make a difference in a much different ways; you know, fight for equal rights for House Elves, Werewolves, Goblins, and all the rest. Along with changing the legislation against Muggleborns, I have read through some laws, and it's amazing how many of them have slipped through the cracks."

"Perhaps you can help me set all of that right," Kinglsey said.

"I'd love to," she replied, "but I want to finish my education first."

"Of course… so how is it that you came here? You must have come through the vistior's entrance, but Aurthur told me you cannot apperate."

"Ron came with me; we got here the Muggle way. After we flew close enough for a cab, we took a cab to the Underground, and then walked the rest of the way. It was refreshing, getting out of bed for once."

"And where is Ron?"

"He said that he was going to check on his dad and see if he needs any help and that he would meet me back here so we can leave together," she rolled her eyes and smiled, "I told him I could meet him down there, but he is sure that I'm going to fall down and break my neck walking just that small distance."

X

X

Ron strode down the hallway in long and quick strides. He passed both the Office of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts and the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects without a thought, heading straight for the doors of the Auror Department. Without hesitation, he heaved the door open.

As he stepped through, he nearly ran into an Auror walking by.

The man was holding a thick file in his arms, and was wearing a cloak of indignation just as thick about him. In the moment that they stopped and looked at each other, Ron already didn't like him.

"May I… help you?" his nose was drawn back, as if some awful smell had wafted past.

"Erm… yeah, I need to speak with whoever is in charge of the Granger case."

The Auror adjusted the file under his arm, "I don't believe that you are authorized to see the Granger file, _sir_."

Ron raised an eyebrow, "I don't want to see the file. I said that I want to speak to the bloke in charge of the case."

"Well he is busy. Now if you please," he made a shooing gesture towards the door.

"I don't bloody _please_, actually," Ron made a step forward, feeling a tinge of satisfaction that he towered over the man, "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

The man didn't step back, but puffed his chest out haughtily, "Hemler, Cain Hemler."

"Well, _Cain Hemler_, how about you show me to whoever is in charge of the Granger case, yeah? If you know what's best for you, you'll be quick about it."

Hemler's hand twitched towards his pocket, "Are you threatening me? Do you realize what a grave offence threatening an Auror is?"

Ron scoffed, "I could get away with it. Do you even know who I am?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I do live in the wizarding world, Mr. Weasley. I know how to read… though I'm sure that is a foreign concept to you."

"Unfortunately?" Ron growled, "Do you even know the shit I went through to help get rid of Voldemort so people like you can have a life?"

"_You_ went through? Ha! Everything I read speaks of Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger's achievements. It seems to me that you rode on their coattails Mr. Weasley. What exactly happened? Did they keep you around because they didn't want to hurt your feelings? Or did they keep you for a more practical reason? Say… a human shield? I daresay you have the build for it."

Just as Ron's hand snapped to where he kept his wand, another Auror rushed over. He had seen the two men with their chests mere inches from each other's and their hands near their wands. Ron thought bitterly that if the other man had waited just another second, he would have had Cain on his back and wishing that he had kept his big trap shut.

"Hemler! What in the hell do you think you're doing? Get that file to Chaucer before I have your head. I'll talk to you later."

Hemler leered for one more lingering moment before spinning on his heel and stalking away. Only with excellent self-control did Ron suppress the urge to brandish his middle finger at his back.

He turned to the Auror that had stopped the fight before it occurred. The man was taller than Ron, with an imposing and dominating air about him that seemed to dominate the room. Even the most skilled Aurors that passed by seemed to shrink in deference to the man. By the badge on his chest, Ron knew that he was the new head of the Auror Department.

The last thing the Ron expected to see was a large smile to spread across the man's face. He held out a hand to Ron and shook it powerfully, "Ronald. Bilius. Weasley. What an honor it is to meet you. Abbas Wyborn, at your service," his smile seemed to grow. He was a man of ruddy complexion and a jovial disposition; Ron felt his anger melting away by the second, and found that he had his own goofy smile on his face.

"Nice to meet you, sir," he said.

"It truly is an honor, my boy," Abbas finally released Ron's hand, "What do I owe the pleasure of having you in my department?"

"I was hoping to talk to the person in charge of Hermione Granger's case, sir."

"Well!" he thumped his chest once with his fist, "That'll be yours truly! Took it upon myself to see it through when I heard of it on Tuesday. We are questioning Lycian himself now, the bastard. He is one sick bloke. What would you like to know? I'll tell you all that I'm allowed to disclose and perhaps a bit more!" Abbas let out a deep, rolling laugh, and Ron couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

"Well, sir, I wanted to know when their trial dates are, so I could make sure none of them ever see anything but the inside of a cell for the rest of their lives," Ron's voice went from lighthearted to deadly serious in a matter of moments, "Hermione told me that she gave a report of what they did to her, so I'm sure you understand why I feel this way."

Abbas took on a serious tone as well, "Yes. Yes, I quite understand that, my boy. I got quite sick myself, reading her report. Yes, I'm afraid that we don't know when the trial dates will be. There are so many Death Eaters and other such dark wizards being brought into custody that we are up to our eyeballs in damn trials, and still more are being booked. I'm afraid that incidences like what happened with Ms. Granger is unfortunately common, and will be until we've got the Ministry back on its feet again. But don't you worry, they will see justice. It just may be a little while."

Ron nodded slowly, "I suppose I understand, sir. Have you found anything out from any of the ones you captured Monday?"

"No, I'm sorry that we haven't. They are a tight lipped bunch. But we've got the best interrogators in England on them. They'll crack yet."

"I hope so, sir…" Ron then realized that he hadn't had much more to ask, he had known that he had wanted to ask questions, but hadn't really thought of what questions those would be; he just knew that he wanted to know more, "Err… is there anything else new in the case?"

"I don't think so… wait… oh yes. We found a letter on Lycian, it seems to be one the Ms. Granger wrote to you…" Abbas reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a folded paper. He handed it to Ron, "I was just examining it when I happened to see you and Cain through my open office door. Good thing, to, looked like you were going to hex his arse off. Wouldn't blame you either; for whatever reason, he isn't a big fan of yours."

Ron nodded vaguely as he unfolded the parchment, and read it silently:

_Ron,_

_The meeting with Kingsley went brilliantly, as short as it was. He said that he was going to get right on finding Aurors willing to escort us. I am to go back to meet him at nine on Thursday morning, and from then I suppose we could leave fairly soon._

_I would really like to go to my parents' home… well, I suppose it's my home as well, though to be honest, the Burrow seems more like home to me now. Anyway, I would like to go there to check for curses and the like to make sure it is safe for their return. It would be foolish to go alone; could you please bring Harry and Ginny and anyone else who is willing to help? My house is Number Six, on East Puckle Lane, Canterbury. I will wait at the Ministry until I am sure this owl has had the time to reach you, and then I will meet you in front of my house._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

"They intercepted it," Ron muttered. He looked up at Abbas, "They intercepted the owl she sent to us. Mum said that she saw one flying towards our house, but then it disappeared… they had to have been waiting outside of the Fidelus Charm for their chance. That's how they knew where she was, and when she was going to be there."

Abbas took the letter from Ron's hand and read over it again. He looked over at Ron with an inquisitive look, "Are you sure? My original thought was that she had it in her pocket and that she was about to send it to you but couldn't."

Ron nodded, "I'm sure. I know Hermione; she would have sent it right away. And dad said that he stayed with her until she sent the owl off. They intercepted it… they've been near my house," Ron felt like he was going to be sick, "Who knows how long they have been. Weeks maybe. All to get Hermione."

The Head of the Auror Department clapped Ron on the shoulder, "This is excellent! Not that they have been outside of your home , of course… but that we have a new place to investigate," Abbas turned to the rest of the Aurors bustling around the room, he put his fingers to his lips and whistled deafeningly. Every man and woman stopped what they were doing and looked to him. Abbas may have been a jovial man, but authority and command for respect seemed to radiate from him; Ron wasn't surprised that Kingsley had named him head of the department, "Alright you all. I've got a lead on the Granger case. I need three of you to come with me to check it out, yeah?"

Without hesitation or confusion, three Aurors stepped forward and the rest of the room went back to work.

Abbas turned to Ron again, "You said something about a Fidelus Charm. Who's the Secret Keeper, if you don't mind my asking? We'd like to start searching the area immediately."

Ron nodded, feeling encouraged in seeing something actually being done, "My dad. He works in the-"

"No need to say that mouthful, my boy," Abbas said, "I have the pleasure of knowing your father. We'll go see him immediately. If you don't mind? Or do you have more questions?"

Ron shook his head, "No sir, get to it. Any evidence you find will get those bastards behind bars, where they belong."

Abbas smiled widely again, lifting Ron's spirits once again as he did so, "I like that attitude. Kingsley tells me that you'll be joining my department soon, I look forward to it."

Ron couldn't help the pride that welled up inside him at the man's words. He was finally starting to believe that he wasn't just the sixth son of a large family, or second-fiddle to The-Boy-Who-Lived… he was actually someone.

"I look forward to working with you, sir."

With another grin, Abbas Wyborn gestured to his fellows to follow him, and the four swept out of the office door, looking lethal with their wands already in hand and their dark robes waving behind them.

Ron looked around the room for a moment, and was able to meet Hemler's eyes. With a particularly evil grin, he stuck his middle finger up valiantly at the man before he spun on his heel and walked out the door.

Hermione was already waiting for him in the reception area. She was talking lightheartedly to Gwendolyn while sitting with her legs crossed in the chair opposite the undersecretary's desk.

"Hey," he leaned against the doorway and smiled at her.

She turned around in her chair and grinned, pushing her fall of brown hair out of her face, "Hey, you ready?"

"Yeah," he replied, "Sorry, have you been waiting long?"

She made to get to her feet, and he rushed forward to help her, "Honestly, Ron, I'm not made of glass! The potion only makes me a bit weak sometimes, and just in the first two days for so. I'm feeling much better now, so if you don't mind," she ignored his attempts to help her up to her feet and stood up on her own.

_Stubborn as hell, that one,_ Ron thought.

She smiled triumphantly as she stood before him, and grabbed her cane that was leaning up against the wall, "See? I told you I could do it. And to answer your question: no, I haven't been waiting long."

Ron slung an arm over her shoulder, "Yes, I see, I see. You can stand up on your own, that doesn't mean I'm not going to be worried."

Hermione sighed, "You have made that painfully clear," she nodded at Gwendolyn, "Nice talking to you Gwendolyn."

The woman smiled before casting her eyes back down to her work, "Nice talking to you as well, Ms. Granger. Have a nice day."

When the lift doors closed, Ron asked, "So how did it go with Kingsley?"

"It went well," she said, "He's already assigned two Aurors to escort us to Australia, and we are set to go on the Twenty-sixth, this coming Tuesday. He already has a room in an inn booked for us… and a room next to us for the Aurors. Both of them are going to go ahead to Australia tomorrow, and see if they can pick up any leads of where my parents might be."

The lift lurched to a halt, and they started to make their way through the Atrium, Ron walked slightly ahead of her, pushing a path through the crowd of people so that Hermione would have an easier time of getting through.

When he stumbled into the phone booth of the visitor's exit, with Hermione in tow, he finally asked, "So, who are the two Aurors?"

"Well, one of them Jedrek Blaisly, his unit was attacked on Monday by the werewolves, before I was taken. Kingsley said he was adamant to be our escort, and even convinced the other Auror that was going to go instead to step down and let him take the position."

"Great! Who's the other one?"

"Umm… it was a strange name… I think his first name was Cain?"

"Please don't tell me his last name was Hemler."

"Oh! Yes, that's it! Cain Hemler. He was the first to volunteer, Kingsley said."

Ron groaned, "God damn it. Fuck!"

"What's wrong?" she asked, sensing that it wasn't the correct time to correct his language.

"I… uh… just heard that he was a huge git… is all."

"Oh, well, rumors are rumors. Maybe he isn't so bad," the booth lurched to a halt, and Hermione, with a new surge of energy, tugged Ron out by his hand behind her. Instead of starting on the route to the Underground, she laughed merrily and pulled him in the opposite direction.

So caught up was he in the beauty and joy of her laugh, that it took Ron several moments of stumbling after her to bring himself to ask, "Hermione, where are you going?"

She laughed again and glanced back at him with mischief glinting in her eyes. Merlin… he loved it when she got that look, "To the park of course!" she pointed up the road, where Ron could see a lush green swell of grass.

He laughed with her, thinking of how much better it was to laugh with her than to laugh with Abbas. He wondered how long it had been since he had laughed with her, "Well in that case…" he jogged up closer to her and threw her over his shoulder and started running with her. Neither cared when her cane clattered to the pavement.

"Ron!" she laughed even harder and playfully hit his back with her fists while her feet kicked wildly. One of her trainers flew off: it was paid no mind.

When he reached the small park, he fell to his back and pulled her down on top of him. The grass itched the back of his neck, but he hardly noticed as Hermione's thick brown hair fell like curtains around his head, blocking him from any other sight but her face.

"You're mental, Hermione," he chuckled.

"That's alright," she breathed, "Because you're just as mental as I am."

"You've got that right," he started to lift his head to kiss her, but she stopped him by putting a finger on the bridge of his nose. She rubbed it for a moment before pulling her hand away.

"What?" she asked to Ron's incredulous look.

"What the hell was that?"

She smiled again, "You had a bit of dirt on your nose."

Ron rolled them over and sat up on his knees over her. Before she could act, he dug his finger into the soil beneath the grass, and brought his dirt covered finger to her face and dabbed it on the tip of her nose, "Just there?"

Hermione pulled up a handful of grass and sprinkled it in his hair, "You have something in your hair, as well," she laughed again, "I thought you should know."

In retaliation, Ron pulled up two handfuls of grass and dropped it all over her clothes and in her hair, "Hermione, you seem to be letting yourself go. Look at all this rubbish you have all over you!"

Just as she was reaching for something else to – no doubt- put on him, there was a small swishing sound, followed by a sudden downpour of rain- or at least what Ron thought was rain until he looked into the sky and saw a clear sky.

"What in the bloody hell is going on?"

"They're sprinklers, Ron!" Hermione squealed, trying to push him off of her to no avail.

"Sprinklers?"

"Yes! They are automatic watering systems that Muggles use to water the grass! Get off of me!" An impish grin appeared on Ron's face, and he wouldn't budge, "Ron!" she shouted again, water from the sprinklers ran through her dampening hair in rivulets.

"What are you trying to tell me, Hermione?" he asked. He put his hands on either side of her head and stared down at her. Water drenched his back and dripped down his hair and onto her face.

"Get off me! Ron!" she pushed at his shoulders, but not hard enough for him to believe she was serious.

"Why would you want that?"

"We're soaked! Come on! Ronald!"

Instead of conceding, he stooped down and captured her lips between his. She reacted enthusiastically, moving her hands from trying to push him away to interlocking behind his neck and pulled him closer until his body was lying along the length of hers.

Ron twisted his hands into her drenched hair and groaned as she arched into him. Their tongues danced together, fighting for dominance- everything about them seemed to be a fight for dominance, even something so intimate.

The ground beneath became sodden with water; mud pooled around them and further soaked Hermione's cloak. She moaned and explored his back with her cold wet hands, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine.

It was only when Hermione shook with cold that Ron pulled away, "We probably should get going, eh? Wouldn't want to get you sick before Australia."

Though she seemed a bit disappointed, Hermione nodded her assent and stood with him. They laughed together as they slipped and slid through the mud, leaning on each other for support.

They stopped to gather Hermione's trainer, and to use drying spells. Together, they headed to the Underground. They forgot Hermione's cane lying on the pavement, and when she realized that it was gone as they got into the cab, she was glad to leave it there.

X

X

Author's note: My longest chapter, and by far my absolute favorite chapter to write. It was just so… Ron and Hermione. Please, please review! Every review makes my day!


	33. Confusing Intellect

Author's note: I had a difficult time thinking of a way to start this, but then I read jesrod82's most recent chapter in her story, Anxious, and there was a scene with gnome throwing, and it finally got me inspired to write this chapter. You all should read her stories, they are amazing.

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

X

X

The gnome lunged, darting for a hole just feet away, and Ron dove after it. He gritted his teeth as he grabbed it by its pudgy ankles and tugged. It held on for dear life onto the edge of the hole, but Ron pulled it away, sending dirt flying into his hair but he didn't really care.

The gnome squealed as Ron got to his feet, hauling the creature into the air as he did, and began spinning around, slowly at first, and then picked up speed until the world span into a blur of colors.

With a sudden stop, Ron released his grip on the gnome's ankles and let him fly well over the small garden fence. The gnome hit the ground with a profound thump, and the creature struggled to its tiny feet and stumbled away in the opposite direction, grunting as it tripped and swayed from dizziness.

Ron looked to his right, to see another gnome standing outside of one of the holes, looking around for what the commotion had been.

"You're bloody stupid," he told it.

The gnome blinked up at him with beady black eyes, as if not quite understanding what Ron was and why he was making noise.

Instead of grabbing the gnome, Ron flopped down on the ground beside it. The gnome, finding Ron to be suddenly incredibly interesting, mimicked him.

"It's rough, you know," Ron said, "I miss my brother. It hasn't been the same without him. I don't think mum will never be the same again. Hell, she's given up multiple opportunities to yell at me; you know something's wrong if she gets quiet. Then there's George, we barely hear from him, and when we do, it's like he isn't even himself anymore. It's like half of him _was_ Fred, you know? And Hermione… she's not acting like nothing's wrong, like she did before. She promised me she wouldn't act like that, and she wouldn't be Hermione if she didn't keep a promise. She's a bit messed up though… I don't really know how to explain it…"

Ron glanced at the gnome out of the corner of his eye, "And here I am, talking to a bleeding gnome."

"Yeah, you sound mental."

The gnome scampered away at the sound of Ginny's voice, diving into his hole as if his life depended on it. Ginny sat down beside Ron in his place.

"I know what you mean though," she said, "About everything. I miss Fred so bloody much, and George, too. Without them, the world doesn't seem all that funny anymore."

Ron nodded, not trusting his voice to speak.

Ginny sighed, "And then there's Harry... he blames himself for everything. You know how he is..."

"Yeah, he still wakes up screaming sometimes," Ron said, "He won't tell me about them. I don't blame the bloke though; I still have nighmares, too."

Ginny nodded her understanding, and laid back on the grass. She stared up at the sky as if searching for answers there, "Me too... in most of them I'm locked away somewhere when everyone is fighting and dying, and I'm unable to escape and help... and other times I'm possessed by Voldemort again, and forced to kill everyone myself."

Until that moment, Ron had forgotten that his little sister had been possessed by Voldemort her first year at Hogwarts. It hadn't occured to him how that might have effected her. It seemed that no one had paid her any mind for it.

"And Hermione is awful, at night," Ginny continued, "I figure she's just as bad as Harry, maybe worse, I don't know. Especially after she was taken by those werewolves. I think every night since Monday I've had to wake her up because of her night terrors."

"She has nightmares?"

Ginny sat up abrupty, appraising him thouroughly with her deep brown eyes, "I think I shouldn't have told you what I have. It's for Hermione to tell, not me."

Ron sighed, knowing by the look in his younger sister's eyes that she wasn't going to be convinced to tell him anything more, and he wasn't really in the mood to argue with her, "Where is she anyway? I thought she was with you."

"She was, but then she got this strange look in her eyes, and rushed for the bookcase. She pulled out about three different books and started flipping through them like mad. It was like she forgot I was in the room."

He couldn't help but smile, "Now you know what it has felt like for me and Harry the last seven years. That's true blue Hermione right there. Except at least she stayed in the same room with you; whenever she got an idea in her head she'd up and run to the library without telling us anything about it. It's a damn waiting game to find out exactly what's cooking up in that brain of hers."

Ginny chuckled, "You know, my bookshelf used to have about two Quidditch books on it, a few pairs of socks, and a lot of dust. She's been here for a couple weeks and she's already filled my bookshelf up. Most of the books are about weird things. There's one about how to destroy powerful magical items safely, another medical looking book that said something about dark magic on the cover, and then another that she's always reading about magical connections, and there is more that I didn't even get a chance to look at.

"Weird stuff, eh?"

Ron stared back at her, eyes wide "Destroying powerful magical items?"

She shrugged, "Something like that."

He scrambled to his feet, "Shit, if she's looking into what I think she is..."

"What?" Ginny asked, standing with him.

"Gotta go," Ron began to jog back into the house, and to Ginny's complaints he said over his shoulder, "Go find Harry and get him to stop moping about, but don't let me find out what you're doing or I'll have to kick his arse."

Ron pulled open the door to Ginny's room and found himself very awkwardly standing amidst a floor covered with open books. Hermione sat in the middle of it all, with her back to him and her hair wilder than usual, she looked from one book to another, frantically scanning the pages before turning to another one. It was such a warmly familiar sight that it took Ron a few moments to bring himself to speak.

"Hermione."

She didn't reply, briskly turning a page in a rather large book directly in front of her.

Ron tip toed over to her, careful not to step on any of the open manuscripts, and tapped her gently on the shoulder, "Hermi-"

Hermione jumped at his touch, and spun around with dizzing speed, whipping her wand towards him as she did, he only just caught her by the wrist befor she was able to hex him.

"What the hell, Hermione?"

Her eyes widened as she came out of her strange daze, and she dropped her wand. It hit one of the open books and rolled to the floor, "I'm so sorry, Ron! I was so caught up in..." she gestured to the books around her, "A bit of reading, that I didn't realize..."

For a moment Ron stood frozen, replaying in his mind the desperate fear that had been in her eyes just moments before. Only a few times in his life had he seen her that scared.

"Ron, are you alright?"

He suddenly realized that he still ahd a tight grip on her wrist, and quickly released her, "Erm... yeah, sorry about that..." casting around for a different topic, he gestured to the books around them, "Where do you even get all of these?"

She smiled in what looked like relief, and returned to the largest book in front of her, turning the page again, "While you are sleeping in until noon, Harry sometimes goes to Diagon Alley. I give him money and the names of the books I want, since I can't go until I heal completly," she replied absently, "I must talk to him, he often gives me back more chancge than he should. I suspect he's using his own money at times and that really isn't nes-..."

She bent further over the book and inspected it carefully.

"Hermione, Ginny told me about one of the books that-"

"Shhhh," was all she replied with, turning the page yet again.

"Hermione, I-"

Abruptly, Hermione slammed the book closed and got to her feet, slutching it tightly to her chest, "I've got it!" she exclaimed. Without a moment's hesitation, she strode past Ron out of the room.

As he followed her into the living room, he said, "Where are you going?"

"To see George," she answered, as if that was all of the explanation he needed.

"Why are you-"

Hermione had already grabbed a fist full of Floo Powder from the mantle and threw it into the fireplace; as she stepped into the green flames she shouted, "To Weasley Wizard's Weezes!" And dissapeared, leaving ROn gaping and confused in the Burrow's empty living room.

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Author's note: Sorry that I have been so late to update, I've been busy busy busy lately! And it also took me a while to figure out this chapter, because I needed something to lead up to the next one, and I'm going to love writing the next one.

I would love to know what you think about this chapter, so please review, my dears!


	34. Don't Want to Let Go

"You missed a golden opportunity, my good man."

"Shut it," George grumbled, in no mood to argue any further with his deceased twin.

"I'm just saying, she has a thing for you Georgie."

"Yes, you've been 'just saying' for the last fucking hour."

"And you've chosen to remain just as stupid as you were sixty minutes ago, so I'll just keep on it about it. She was about to kiss you, and you shook her hand instead! 'Nice seeing you', you said, what the hell is that about?"

"She only wants me because you're dead."

"Bullshit," Fred snapped, "We only dated for a year, mate. And that was sixth year at Hogwarts. You can't honestly think that after all this time; she wants you only because of me. She wants you, and I reckon, if she was dating either one of us because she liked the other, it was when she was dating me. She wants you; I figure she's always wanted you."

"Why's that?"

In his mind, Fred shrugged, "Damned if I know. I am the better looking one after all."

"Sure," George laid back on the couch and covered his face with his hands, "Sure you are."

"What's with you? You're not bantering with me. Bantering is our thing, if I recall correctly. Who knows, maybe being dead messes with your memory. I'm not sure; I've never been dead before this. I suppose it's something that would be better with practice. I'm sure Voldy is spectacular at it by now."

"You're rambling, Fred."

"I know. So tell me, what's the issue?"

A small but hurried knock came from the front door. George groaned.

"Ah, it looks like she's back," Fred said, George could hear the smug grin in his voice, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Isn't that the saying?"

"Maybe if I just wait, she'll go away."

"I wouldn't try it. Angelina isn't one to leave quietly. I wouldn't put it past her to blow the door open."

George sighed, conceding that his twin was probably right, and shuffled over to the door. With a deep breath, he pulled the door open.

An agitated Hermione Granger strode through, needing no further invitation. She slammed a gigantic book down on the table and turned to George with her arms crossed. It reminded him unpleasantly of when she reprimanded him and Fred as a Prefect.

"You've been talking to him, haven't you?" It wasn't so much as a question as a heated accusation.

George closed the door and fell into a deep bow, "I'd like to welcome you to my humble home. Please, do come in. No, I insist. Make yourself at home. Go ahead and throw that book on my table, it sure does look heavy. No, don't pay any mind to my accounts that I have there, their careful organization means nothing to me."

"There isn't anything on the table," Hermione replied, with an eyebrow raised. She crossed her arms.

George walked over to the table and gestured dramatically, "Sure there is, there's a rather large book on the table. My dear Hermione, I do believe you're going a bit mad. In fact, the book is called… Magical Connections, Natural and Cast: From Birth to the Unbreakable Vow, see?" he tapped a finger on the book's cover.

Hermione ignored him, and asked again, "You're been talking to him, haven't you?"

"I don't know who you're-"

"Oh don't give me that rubbish, George!" Hermione angrily flipped open the book to a page with a slip of paper marking it. She pointed out a section and read aloud, "'If twins connected by _Daltera Animi_ are separated by death after the connection has developed thoroughly through adolescence, it has been reported that the surviving twin will hear and communicate with the deceased one in their mind', you've been talking to Fred, haven't you?"

"W-… where did you… where did you find this?" George stammered.

She appraised him seriously, "I know my way around a bookstore, George. I found this before I was taken on Monday. Answer the question, George, have you been communicating with Fred?"

"Y-… yes. I have been."

She wacked him soundly on the shoulder.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"You haven't told anyone? You didn't even know why you were hearing him! You could have been going mad, and you didn't tell anyone?"

"Well how was I supposed to-… wait… so you're saying I'm not going mad?"

Hermione sighed and sat down in one of the chairs at the table, "No. No, you're not going mad, George. You hearing Fred is a result of a magical connection forged between you two."

George sat down across from her and spun the book around so that he could read it, "So, is Fred… am I actually hearing Fred? Or just a memory of him?"

Her voice softened as she turned a page in the book and pointed to a section on the left page, "It goes into more detail right here. But to summarize it… you are hearing the real Fred. It's sort of how ghosts work. They chose to stay behind in this life, not really dead, but not really alive either. Except for, with Fred, he doesn't have a choice. He stays, as a sort of ghost in your mind alone, because of this connection between you two. The only way he can pass, is if you let him."

"Well then," George clapped his hands together, "Fred, old boy, I hereby give you permission to move on into the afterlife."

"Nice try, mate. I'm stuck here until you _really _let me go. What that means, I don't really know."

_I know that, but she might not know that._

"Well, it looks like the problem is solved. Thanks for the help, Hermione, now if you'd like to head out…"

"You're not fooling me, George. I know he's still there."

George leaned back and sighed, "Damn you, Hermione…" he looked down at the book and up again, "So… he's really there? It really is him…"

A wide smile broke across his face, and suddenly he jumped to his feet and pulled Hermione into a bone crushing hug, "It's him! Hermione, do you know what this means?"

Hermione pried herself out of his grasp, "I'm afraid whatever it means for you is the opposite of the reason I told you."

"It means that I haven't lost him! He's alive, he just doesn't have a body is all! He's alive! I never have to lose him!" he laughed and fell back onto the couch gleefully.

Hermione sat down on the arm of the couch, "George, that's not such a good idea…"

"Yeah, mate. I love you, but I'd rather not spend the rest of your life in your head. I was given specific instructions to help you 'let me go' and then get my arse to the afterlife, whatever that is. D'you reckon it would be in any way healthy to have me in your head all of the time? Hell, you're a pretty sick bastard, I don't know if it would be healthy for _me_ to be in your head for the rest of your life."

_Oh shut it,_ George told Fred, then addressed Hermione, "Why don't you think it's a good idea? It could be good for everyone. I could just tell everyone what Fred says, he could stay alive for everyone. Hermione, don't you get it? It's brilliant! He could stay alive!"

Hermione rubbed her temples and muttered, "This is why I didn't tell Ron. I couldn't tell Ron. I don't even know what I'm going to tell him when I get back…"

"What are you talking about?"

She smiled sadly as she looked over to him, she seemed to be ten years older than she was, "Ron would be the same way, if he knew. He would see it as some sort of way to… resurrect Fred."

"Why don't you want the same? It would make everyone's life better, if Fred wasn't dead. He wouldn't ever have to die."

Hermione stared at him for a long time before answering, "George, isn't that the same ideal that Voldemort and his Death Eaters embraced? That death is the worst thing that can happen to a person? Harry told me something that Dumbledore told him once: that death is the next great adventure, to the well-organized mind."

George gestured wildly, "Well there you go! Fred had a horribly disorganized mind."

"Oi! I resent that!"

Hermione sighed, "George, you have to let him go."

"What does that even mean?" George shouted, getting to his feet and pacing back and forth, "Fred keeps telling me that, but I don't know what you two are bloody talking about!"

"George, if I could help you anymore, I would, but I have looked through every book that I could find on the subject- you should see the state of Ginny's room now- and all they say is that the living twin must 'let the other one go', I guess it's something that you just understand when you're meant to."

"WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO LET HIM GO? HUH?" George shouted, "WHAT IF I DON'T WANT TO STOP HEARING MY BROTHER'S VOICE? MY BEST FRIEND'S VOICE? WHAT THEN? SINCE YOU SEEM TO HAVE THE ANSWERS FOR EVERYTHING!"

"Georgie, you need to calm down," Fred said. George ignored him and continued to rail on, though his voice lowered dangerously.

"What if it was Ron? What if it was Ron who died, and you heard him in your head? Would you want to let him go?"

"No, I wouldn't," Hermione said quietly.

"Would you want to let him disappear?"

"No," she replied weakly.

"George," Fred growled, "That's enough. You're being a git. This isn't the same thing."

_How is it different?_

Fred had no answer.

"Hermione, if there were any way you could keep Ron alive, if he had died in Fred's place, would you do it?"

Hermione let out a long, shuddering sigh, a lone tear traced its way down her face, "On the Potters' gravestone, it said, 'the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death'. Harry was worried that it was a Death Eater's belief there. But I told him that it meant living after death. If Ron had died, he would have lived on in our hearts, like Fred does. If Ron had died, and I somehow could speak to him the way you can to Fred, I would force myself to find the strength to let him go, to let him move on, even though it would tear me up inside."

"Why would you do that? When you have the choice between talking to him and being without him for the rest of your life, why would you choose to be without him?"

"The dead aren't meant to be with the living, George," she replied softly, "How would you feel, if it were the other way around? If you had died and Fred would hear your voice, and you would stay in his mind, unable to do anything. Able to see the world, but not touch it, or feel it. To see your family, but not be able to communicate with them, or even hug them. How hollow of an existence would that be? I couldn't put someone I love through that, even if it killed me to finally let them go.

"You need to let Fred go."

George looked away, "I think you should go, Hermione."

"George," Fred said, "She's just trying to help you, and look, you've made her cry, you great big prat."

"Thanks for your help, Hermione, but I really think you should leave." George said, focusing intently on the small painting of a Quidditch Pitch on the opposite wall.

Hermione nodded and got to her feet. As she approached the door, she stopped and told him, "Y-you can keep the book. I… I brought it so that m-maybe you could understand it more. I h-hope it helps."

"Thanks," he muttered.

With a small, choked sob, Hermione pushed her way out of the door and closed it quietly behind her.

George made his was slowly over to the table where the book lay open and sat down in the chair before it. He stared blankly down at the words for a few moments before laying his forehead on the book and letting his tears fall.


	35. Irrational and Foolish

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

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When Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace, covered in soot, Ron already had planned what to say to her. He was going to tell her that she shouldn't have run off without even explaining why she was going, and by herself. He was going to tell her that enemies could be anywhere, even in the joke shop, and that it was dangerous for her to go running off on her own.

He was going to tell her a lot of things, and not necessarily in a nice way, until he saw tears running down her face. Everything left his mind, and instead, he pulled her into his arms and held her close.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Shhhh," he ran a hand gently over her hair and rubbed her back, "Shhh, it's alright. It's alright," he felt his shoulder dampen with her tears. He didn't care, and held her closer.

Hermione mumbled something into his shoulder that he couldn't quite make out.

"Sorry?"

She pulled away enough to look up at him, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and choked out, "D-don't ever d-die."

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Hermione had felt something snap in her when she was talking to George. All she could picture was Ron- dead; and the knowledge that such a thing could have happened, and could still happen if they weren't careful and watchful, shook her to her core.

It opened the gateway for every vile thought to flow in, everything that the Horcrux cup had shown her and others that it hadn't. What if she wasn't good enough? What if she failed? What if she failed to keep them all safe? To keep him safe?

She tried to rein in the rush of feelings that tumbled through her like a hurricane. Stress threatened to overwhelm her. The screams of people she knew, people she grew up with, dying around her echoed through her mind in a violent torrent.

Failure. The very thought that she could still fail everyone at any moment, perhaps with a lack of knowledge, or a delayed spell, terrified her. Had she not failed them already? She had failed to stop the werewolves from capturing her, after all, and even before that, she had failed to realize the gravity of that singular paw print she had found in the garden of the Burrow just one day after a full moon. She had failed to connect the dots that were so obvious to her now.

Distantly, Hermione heard Ron, "Hey, it's alright, Hermione. Don't worry, I don't plan on dying anytime soon, alright?"

She nodded into his shoulder, gasping as she tried to regain control of her emotions and her tears, and as she did she clutched to him tighter; desperately and irrationally terrified that if she were to let him go, he would be gone forever. Hermione scolded herself for such senseless thoughts; after all, they were merely standing in the living room of the Burrow, and yet that fear refused to release her: the fear of losing him; the fear of failing him.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly, "Hermione, what happened?"

She held him tighter, afraid that he might let go; he rubbed her back and ran his fingers through her hair in a silent confirmation that he wasn't going anywhere. Her shoulders shook with her racking sobs. She was so tired, so scared, so unsure.

"What happened, Hermione?" he asked again, his voice more serious, "Is everything alright? Is George okay?"

His words seemed to draw her slowly back into reality, and she forced her breathing to calm, "G-G-George is f-fine. Every-ything is f-f-fine."

"Well, not everything," he said, he was audibly relieved that there was no tangible danger, "You seem a bit wonky. What happened?"

She shook her head and fisted his shirt in her hands, realizing that she was ruining it terribly, and not caring in the least, "N-nothing…. I-I-I… I just… I'm…"

He pulled her closer to him as she fought against new tears, "Shhhh, it's alright… do you want to go up to my room? I know that you'd probably not want someone to walk in when you're…" Hermione nodded before he could further try find the right word without insulting her.

"Right, well…" he pried her hands from his shirt, but held her close with an arm around her shoulders as they walked about the many flights of stairs. So disoriented was she, that Hermione trusted Ron completely to lead her up the rickety staircase. She was later thankful that they didn't run into anyone on their journey up to his room, so no one saw her in the- what she would call embarrassing- state she was in.

Ron closed the door behind them, and led her across the room until the back of her legs hit his bed. Thankfully, she sat down.

Ron sat beside her, and watched her carefully, with his hand rubbing small circles on her back, while she fought to regain control of herself. When she finally opened her eyes, she was shocked to find him staring over at her with an expression nothing short of avid admiration.

She smiled weakly, "Sorry."

His blue eyes turned serious, "No apologies, Hermione. Just tell me what happened."

Hermione took a deep, quivering breath, "I… I don't know what happened, really. I was just talking to George about-" she cut herself off, unsure of exactly how to go on. She knew how Ron would react if he knew about Fred, and the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him more than he already was, and make him think he could somehow bring Fred back into his life through George.

"About what?"

"About… Fred. I just needed to talk to him about Fred, because I found a book that I thought might help him get through the loss… and he started asking me how I would feel if you died, and if I couldn't do anything about it," that wasn't a lie, it was just part of the truth, even so, Hermione couldn't help but feel guilty for it.

"That git," Ron made to get up, but Hermione snatched his arm and pulled him back down again.

"No, Ron, he's just hurting, is all. It's understandable, I should I have known better than to go to him about it, at least not until later…"

"That doesn't give him the right-"

"Ron, forgive him. I already have. I just hope the book I left him will help."

There was small pause, "So what happened, after he asked you… how it would be if I had… erm… died?"

"I don't know… I just kind of lost it. I was able to keep my head when I was talking to him, but when I left I-… I don't know. I felt like I needed to see you, at that moment, to be sure you were okay. I ran down to the shop as fast I could- I'm sure that I knocked a few things down along the way- and came through the fireplace. I was sure for some reason that something was wrong… there wasn't though, it was completely irrational," she looked away, embarrassed of emotions that by her view were imprudent.

"Not everything has to be rational, Hermione," Ron told her.

"That's not true. If something isn't rational, it's irrational, and to be anything but logical is foolish. I hate being foolish."

"D'you reckon that everyone should be a little bit foolish? At least sometimes?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"I figure everyone is a bit loony, that's what makes us… us, you know?"

Hermione sniffed and rubbed her red eyes, "I suppose you're right, in a strange way."

His eyes widened in surprise at her agreeing with him so quickly, "Yeah… yeah, I am. And it's alright, you know, that you got upset, that's why I'm here," he assessed her with bright blue eyes, "You're not the only one that has those moments, Hermione. There have been times that I have woken up from nightmares, and I've had to go down and peek into Ginny's room to make sure that you're alright."

Hermione marveled at him, how he had grown, how he had changed. Sometime, he was still that insensitive boy with a crude sense of humor but ever since he arrived at their tent, with the sword of Gryffindor in one hand, a destroyed horcrux in the other, and an apology on his lips, he had shown himself to be the man he was more often than not. He still had the same unsophisticated sense of humor and rude use of language, but Hermione had to admit that, although uncouth, those were still things that she loved about him. They made him Ron.

She disregarded his anger towards her the week after Fred's death: she knew that that was how he dealt with his hurt, and accepted it.

Before she realized she was going to do it, Hermione found herself reaching out and tenderly touching his cheek. Their eyes met and it was as if a Priori Incantatem had been forged between them, neither seemed able to break that connection, to look away. When she thought her heart may burst, Hermione whispered, "I love you, Ron," as if it was some grand secret for his ears alone.

He smiled that special lopsided smile that she had found he only smiled for her, "Now, that's not very rational of you."

"Of course it is," she replied, "It's completely logical. You're loyal, and brave, and strong, and passionate, and smart-"

"Well now you're pushing it," he chuckled, "You're the brains, not me."

Her brow furrowed, "No, your mind works differently than mine, is all. You are better than both Harry and I with strategies, and coming up with a solution to a problem that can't be found in a book. Like how you thought of getting the fangs out of the Chamber of Secrets, or how you knew in first year how to get us across that chess set."

His expression became thoughtful, "You know, I don't think anyone else could make me sound like the hero you make me sound like."

"It's the truth. You can be insufferable sometimes, but you are a hero."

He grinned, "I love you, Hermione."

"I suppose we're both a bit irrational."

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Author's note: I'd like to thank my reviewers once again; you all are FANTASTIC. And I hope that more of you who read this will also review, I'd love to hear from you.

I am quite excited to write the next chapter. All I will tell you is that Cain is making his return. Oh, how I love writing that unbearable man.


	36. Australian Flat

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

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Hermione hopped from one foot to the other, as if dancing on hot coals, as she watched the large black shadow making its way across the distant green grass, coming ever closer to a place that it could not see, but knew was there. To her right, Ron stood quietly, staring at the same blot of darkness she was; he was tense as he watched it approach them. In Hermione's left hand was the same beaded bag that had served them so well in the last year. She clutched it tightly in her fist.

To her left, Harry stood, green eyes trained on the same shadow. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and his brow was furrowed in consternation as he scrutinized it. He knew it was there to take his family from him. His hand was shoved in his cloak pocket, and by his posture, Hermione knew that he had his wand clenched tightly in his fist.

"It ought to be odd," Harry said, in a quite failed attempt to keep his voice relaxed, "With you two gone."

"Yeah," Ron replied, "We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

"I'd say so, defeating the most powerful dark wizard could probably be called 'a lot'" Hermione said.

Harry nodded. Hermione answered his silence, "We won't be long. Likely, we'll be back before you notice we're gone. We'll send owls."

"I'd best get myself a new owl," Harry replied. The dark shadow split into two more distinct shapes as it approached.

"I'd say you'd probably have your pick of them, with how many people love you," Ron said, "Boy-Who-Won, isn't that what they're calling you now?"

"Couldn't tell you, I don't read The Daily Prophet."

"I'm not surprised. I think it will be a while until I trust the paper again," Hermione said.

The two distinct dark spots morphed as they grew closer, and formed into two figures shrouded in long sweeping black cloaks. Jedrek Blaisly and Cain Hemler drew closer. Neither could see the Burrow; Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood just inside the boundary, unseen by the Aurors, embracing what little time to themselves they had before Ron and Hermione left for Australia.

Harry cleaned his glasses with his shirt and replaced them on his nose, "What are they carrying?"

"Portkey, I would guess. We're due to leave in about two minutes."

That two minutes seemed at that moment to be a prison sentence.

Hermione felt torn between two parts of herself. As desperately as she wanted to go retrieve her parents, she felt as if she was leaving her real family behind, even if it was only for a short while. Guilt riddled her for feeling that way.

"I suppose we'd better step out where they can see us," she said, "They're almost here."

With a collective sigh, the three friends stepped over the line.

The two Aurors were close enough for Ron to notice Cain's grey eyes light up when they landed on Hermione. Ron ground his teeth and willed himself to keep his mouth shut. That didn't stop him from glaring daggers at the man.

Before the Aurors were in earshot, Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione, "Be safe you two. I'd prefer not to come save your arses, again"

"No worries, mate. And as I recall, we did a quite a lot of saving of your scrawny arse."

"Just… just be careful, alright?"

"We will, Harry," Hermione said, "You stay safe, too."

Harry nodded towards the Aurors just a few yards away, "Looks like the shorter one is particularly happy to see you, Hermione."

She turned her gaze back towards the approaching Aurors just before Cain shouted jovially, "Hermione Granger! Harry Potter! What an honor it is to meet you both," he jogged the remaining distance and shook Harry's hand vigorously, "An honor, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled uncomfortably, "Erm… thanks… look, I've got to go, but nice meeting you…"

"Hemler, Cain Hemler."

"Cain… nice meeting you…" Harry withdrew his hand and looked to the other Auror steadily approaching, "And nice seeing you again Mr. Blaisly."

Jedrek smiled and tipped his tattered pointed hat, "Mr. Potter."

With a nod to Hermione and Ron, Harry hastily walked back into the Burrow.

Unperturbed by Harry's quick exit, Cain turned his gaze back to Hermione and smiled widely, "Hermione Granger, what an absolute pleasure," he took her hand and kissed it. Hermione pulled her hand back quickly, and didn't miss that Cain had yet to even acknowledge Ron- who was turning redder by the second.

"Umm, just call me Hermione."

The man's smile brightened. Ron wanted to throttle him with his bare hands.

"Alright… Hermione," her name came off his lips like honey.

She fidgeted uncomfortably, and subconsciously stepped closer to Ron, who draped a possessive arm around her shoulders.

A scowl appeared on Cain's face for a moment, before he remembered himself and smiled again.

"We'd best be going, the Portkey is set to go in fifteen seconds," Jedrek lifted an old lampshade out so they could touch it, "This will take us to your room in the inn we will be staying in. We have a few leads, but as of yet we haven't found-"

The Portkey dragged them out of space before he could finish his sentence.

The room of the inn was simple. Cheap curtains, the same shade of blue as Hermione's mother's curtains, covered the only window in room. There was a small living area, consisting of a small loveseat with thin cushions that were caved in from years of wear. Just a few feet from the living room, was a very small stretch of a kitchen counter, an outdated refrigerator, and an old sink.

There were only three other doors, one to the bedroom, one to the bathroom, and another to the hallway outside.

"It's the best the Ministry can afford right now, I'm afraid," Jedrek set the lampshade on the small dining table they had landed net to, "We can't afford much, these days."

"It's brilliant," Hermione said, looking around the room with a small smile on her face.

Ron glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; he couldn't imagine how he thought a dump like this hotel room could be brilliant, especially after he had seen her house. It had put his own to shame, he thought.

Cain took off his cloak and draped it over the loveseat, he turned to Hermione and smiled again, "'Mione… may I call you that?"

"Well, actually-"

"Great," he said, "We haven't found your parents yet, 'Mione, it turns out-"

"What?" Ron snapped, "You've been here for how many days, and you haven't _found_ them yet?"

Cain scowled, "No, we haven't. Have you? From what I know, you haven't done much of _anything_, Mr. Weasley," by his tone, he didn't mean just the search for the Grangers.

"Now you listen here, _mate_," Ron growled, stepping forward aggressively and clenching his fist.

Cain put up a hand to interrupt him, and then turned again to Hermione, "As I was saying, 'Mione, we haven't yet found your parents. We have found where they have been, but they keep moving from place to place some reason that we can't figure out. Every time we find a place that they have been, they move again."

Hermione nodded, pushing away the anger she felt at the way he treated Ron. She thought there would be more than enough time to set the man straight, and she wanted answers, "That makes sense. Their new dream was to move to Australia, and when I altered their memories, I wanted to make sure they kept moving around for at least a few years, unable to decide exactly where to stay. Just in case any Death Eaters thought to follow them."

"You truly are the brightest witch of your age," Cain said reverently, Hermione shifted in discomfort. Cain Hemler didn't seem to notice, and continued on, "However, your brilliance is serving now to be a bit of a challenge. We're on their trail, but we have no way to know how long it will take to actually find them. But, knowing your intelligence, we'll likely find them any day now with your help. From what I've read, you've found your way out of more than one difficult situation, 'Mione."

"Well… yes, I suppose I have…"

"_Her_mione has more brains than anyone I know," Ron said, glaring at Cain, "She'll likely have them found and their memories restored before _you_ know it."

Cain glared back and gritted his teeth. He stood up straighter, and Ron mimicked him, puffing out his chest, which visibly more muscled as a result from a year on the run and fighting dark wizards. He smugly thought about how Cain had probably been safely in hiding, without offering even the slightest resistance to the Death Eater takeover.

"Yes," he said slowly, "I'm sure she will."

Jedrek put a hand on Cain's shoulder and pulled him back a few steps, putting out his show of bravado as effectively as if he had stunned him, "Hemler," the Auror said, his voice low with warning, "We'd best get back to the search, yeah?"

He smiled at Ron, who let his guard down as well, "Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger would probably like time to unpack."

Cain's nostrils flared as he continued to stare at Ron, his fists clenched and unclenched, "Yes… I suppose we should…"

He turned a final smile to Hermione, though anger was still evident in his eyes, "One of us will always be in the room next door, as protection," his eyes darted to Ron, then back to her, "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

With a last glare at Ron, Cain allowed himself to be lead out of the room by Jedrek.

When the door closed, Hermione sighed, "What did you do to that man, Ron?"

"Huh?"

"Cain! He hates you!" she put her hands on her hips and stared at him with her brow raised, waiting for an answer.

"I didn't do anything!" Ron thought about telling her what Cain had said in the Auror office a few days back, but decided to keep it to himself. He figured that Hermione hexing one of their protectors probably would slow down the search for her parents.

"You haven't hit him before?" she asked, incredulously, "Or hexed him for some reason?"

"No!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth, "You always think the worst of me Hermione, I didn't do anything to the bloke."

Hermione looked as if he had slapped her, "You think that I always think the worst of you?"

Her expression stopped him in his tracks, "Well… no, not all of the time… but you were pretty quick to suspect that I did something…"

"Well can you blame me? The man was acting like you insulted his family! It's reasonable to think you may have done something. That doesn't mean I always think the worst of you."

_Shit, I fucked up, again_, Ron thought.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I guess that was a bit messed up for me to say."

She nodded, "It was."

"Forgive me?" he grinned hopefully.

"Stop that Ron!" she exclaimed suddenly, she turned her back to him.

"What? What did I do now?"

"That look!"

"What look?" he asked, bewildered.

She paced a few steps away from him, "I can't stay mad at you, when you give me that look. I can't really think straight at all when you do that."

A wide smile spread across his face, unseen by Hermione, who still had her back to him. She had just told him a failsafe way out of her anger, and better… he could see the tips of her ears turning red.

He stepped up closer to her, "You can't stay mad, when I do that?" he asked innocently.

"No," she replied, unsuspecting as he stepped even closer.

He stayed quiet until he was mere inches from her, with his mouth just by her ear, "You can't think straight, you said?" he asked huskily.

She closed her eyes and nodded, "Not at all."

"So," he said slowly, "when I do this, you probably can't think at all, right?"

"Do wha-… Mmm, Ron," she leaned into him as he kissed just behind her ear.

"How's your thoughts now?" he asked before sucking gently on the skin there. He could hear her breath quickening, and her skin warmed.

"Scrambled," she breathed. She jumped when she felt his hand begin to ghost up and down her side.

"I didn't know you were ticklish," he chuckled.

"Ugh," she groaned, "I was hoping you wouldn't find out. I have a feeling that you'll be using it against me for the rest of my life."

"Your feeling is correct," he whispered. Unable to take it any longer, he spun her around and his mouth collided into hers forcefully. She parted her lips and he dipped his tongue into her mouth, reveling in the moan that escaped her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. Ron thought smugly about how Cain was alone in the room beside theirs, while he was snogging the smartest, most beautiful girl he had ever known in a hotel room that they had to themselves.

Hermione backed up, pulling Ron with her, until she felt her hips hit the back of the loveseat. She gasped when Ron quickly grabbed her waist and lifted her up until she was sitting on the high back of the couch. Their faces were level now, and Hermione found that it was a much more comfortable position to kiss him in. She gripped the back of his robes tightly in her fists, pulling him as close as she could, wanting to feel all of him. Irrationality purred seductively in her ear, and she embraced it.

Ron leaned against her, and twisted his hands in her thick, curly hair, as he was often fond of doing. Hermione continued to surprise him with everything that she did. With every passing second, she seemed to grow wilder, lustier; her tenacity pulled him along with an irresistible force, not that he would want to resist it anyway.

She tugged on his robes again, forcing him to push more of his body than he meant to against her. Hermione felt his erection poking against her inner thigh, and couldn't suppress the whimper that came from her lips.

"Sorry," he mumbled, trying to shift away from her again, "I didn't mean to-"

"Don't be sorry," she replied in a rushed whisper, "I- I like it," her face reddened.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, never in his life had he imagined Hermione Granger saying that to him. Well… he had actually _imagined_ it many… many… many times, but he had never believed it would actually ever happen. In all his imaginings, however, he had always said something far more smooth and sexy than what he said next; "What… what do you want to do?"

He wanted to slam his head into the wall. Wasn't he supposed to just _know_? He didn't know, though. He had no idea.

Hermione bit her lip and looked into his eyes, her own eyes filled with desire. Ron welled with pride when he thought that _he_ had given her that look, "I want-"

There was a knock on the door. Sharp, loud, and Ron knew that he was going to have to kill whoever was on the other side.

Reluctantly, Ron pulled away from Hermione, grumbling as he went. He threw the door open and nearly pounced on the man standing there.

Cain Hemler stood with his arms crossed and a self-satisfied smile plastered on his face.

Ron decided that out of all of the things Cain had done, this was the most unforgivable.

"I forgot my cloak," he said. He walked through the door without any further hesitation, and retrieved his cloak off of the loveseat.

"Hello, 'Mione," Ron was sure that he was using that ridiculous name just to spite him. He must have seen how much it annoyed Ron.

"Hello, Cain," Hermione said in an attempt to be pleasant. Her breathing began to slow back to normal, but her face was blazing red.

Cain gazed at her for quite a few moments longer than necessary before striding haughtily back to the door, "I hope you have a good night, _'Mione_," he stressed her name to make sure that it was abundantly clear that he did not wish Ron a good night in the slightest, then closed the door after one last lingering look at Hermione.

"I do wish he would stop calling me that," Hermione said after jumping down off the couch, "it's ridiculous. It sounds like what you call me when you have a mouth full of food."

"Then I'll be sure not to say your name anymore when my mouth is full," Ron replied while standing awkwardly by the door, "It's bloody awful sounding."

"Now if only I could get you to stop talking when your mouth is full _all_ of the time. Baby steps, I suppose," she said.

They stood in silence for a moment, each trying to conjure back the magic that had been there just before Cain had knocked, and both knowing that it was gone, at least for the night.

"It's getting late," Hermione said, disappointment in her voice.

"Yeah…" Ron replied, "I'll… uhm… expand the couch and take it for the night. You take the bed."

She considered him for a moment, her dark brown eyes not revealing the thoughts he knew were rushing through her mind, then said, "Alright. Your things are in the beaded bag. I'll get my sleeping things out and… go to bed."

He nodded, "Alright… goodnight then."

She pulled her sleeping garments and tooth brush out of the bag, "Goodnight," she disappeared into the bedroom.

X

X

Author's note: Yes, I did it. I knocked on the fanfiction given nickname, "'Mione"; honestly, I hate the nickname and any other nickname for Hermione. I have not found one that doesn't sound absolutely ridiculous. So, I decided it would be the most perfectly annoying name for Cain to use.

Also, I received a review to which I am not able to personally reply, so I'll say it here: The review stated that Hermione barely talked to George over the years, and that it is odd and intrusive that she wants to all of a sudden help him. I do believe the Hermione did have a good relationship with both George and Fred. Over many years she often went over to the Weasley household, and she also was in the same house with him, and was best friends with his younger brother. She had a kind of brother-sister relationship with George and Fred, because she was constantly harping on them for their practical jokes. Yet she knew and recognized that they performed splendid magic. How she could do all of this, live in the same house with them often, and 'barely talk to them' doesn't make any sense to me. And Hermione, if she knew something was wrong, is definitely the person that will do anything to help. She proved this when she tried to help the House Elves, all of whom didn't want her help. I hope I don't sound like I'm ranting, because the review didn't anger me in the slightest. I just wanted to make sure that I was clear, in case anyone else may be having the same questions. I really do appreciate every review, because I see it all as a way to grow in my writing.

On that note, jesrod82 has helped point out a few grammar mistakes that I have had, and I am really grateful for the help. I don't like to make mistakes, and wish to seem intelligent and competent in my writing, so if any of you happen to see any mistakes, please do point them out. I will fix whatever I miss.


	37. Opening the Door

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

X

X

Ron paced the small living room. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, in front of the loveseat he had yet to expand. He had his wand in one hand, and only a pair of bright orange pants on. Hermione had known that those trousers were his favorite to sleep in, so she had packed them on top. Brilliant, she was.

He didn't really know why he was pacing, but he felt he couldn't go to sleep. Like he was waiting for something.

X

X

The bed squeaked horrendously as Hermione sat down after she changed into her night clothes: a simple shirt and baggy pants. She sat, staring at the wall with her hands interlocked on her lap. She stared at the faded stripped wallpaper and tried to think of other things, safer things, more logical things than what she had been about to say to Ron; more logical things than the feelings that overwhelmed her.

She hadn't expected for Ron to take the couch. Quite honestly, she had expected him to just crawl into bed beside her, as natural as everything else in their relationship had been. But he hadn't.

Perhaps, she thought, he didn't want to.

No, that couldn't be. He had slept with her before, once on the couch and once on his bed, and had seemed to have no objections to it. Why was this different?

Of course, those times had been quite by accident.

She stood up quickly and strode towards the door, but stopped short before she reached it, rethinking what she was about to do. Should she let him come to her on his own accord? Many, including Ron, had pointed out to her that she was pushy, and bossy, and she knew that she would be a fool to disregard that. Maybe, she should just wait for him.

Old insecurities nagged at her, and drew her away the door.

X

X

Ron watched the bedroom door for a long moment, then resumed his pacing. For just a moment, he thought he had heard footsteps nearing it. He told himself that if she wanted him to sleep on the bed with him, she would have said so. Wouldn't she?

But she had had a strange look in her eyes when he had offered to take the couch. He hadn't a clue what it meant. Ron wished, not for the first time, that he knew at least a little bit of what Hermione was thinking and feeling. Sure, she told him some things, but he always had a feeling that she kept a lot to herself. It was an odd thing for him to deal with; growing up in his family, everyone was always saying whatever what was on their mind- even if they ended up regretting it later- and often it had be done by shouting just to be heard. Hermione and Harry were both much different than that; when they had a strong opinion on something they often spoke up, but for the most part, they kept their emotions to themselves.

It annoyed the living hell out of him sometimes.

Maybe he needed to move forward, to tell her that he didn't particularly _want_ to sleep on the couch. But how could he do that without seeming like a pervy twat? He scratched his long nose as he thought. He couldn't quite figure out just how to tell Hermione what he wanted to.

And maybe she didn't want him sleeping in the same bed. Maybe she was finally coming to her bloody senses and realizing that she could do much better than him.

The thought of Hermione with anyone but him made him sick; and with that thought spurring him on, he made towards the door.

X

X

Hermione shook her head wildly to herself. No, she had to put those thoughts away. Problems for another time, another place.

_Perhaps,_ she thought, _I should just go to bed. I'll just… wait for him to come to me, if he wants._

Then, she remembered the last time she thought to wait for him to take the first step, and how it had taken years with still nothing until she had finally broken down the wall between them herself. He couldn't be trusted to make any sort of advance, she decided.

With that decision, she closed her hand around the doorknob, but before she could turn it herself, it twisted in her hand and swung open away from her.

Ron stood on the other side, with a surprised look on his face that she supposed mirrored her own.

She stared at him for a long moment, her hand still extended to where the doorknob had been before. Her eyes wandered to his pale, freckled, but broad chest. She had seen him without a shirt numerous times, but for whatever reason, this time seemed to mean something more. Her face heated up when she realized that her gaze lingered far too long than necessary on his body, and looked up to meet his eyes.

His blue eyes were dark, and in his expression she knew he had seen the trail her eyes had followed. Desire was so evident in his features that Hermione caught her breath. She took a step back, and let her hand fall to her side. Ron followed her with a step forward of his own, and pulled the door closed behind him.

"I don't want to sleep on the couch, Hermione," he said. He raked his fingers through his hair as he stood before her. The space between them seemed to be charged with electricity.

"It looked… quite uncomfortable…" Hermione breathed, "I understand."

He made another step forward; Hermione didn't move away, "That's not why I don't want to sleep on it."

"W-why?"

For the first time, he looked unsure of himself, he grinned self-consciously, "Because… I want to stay in here, with you."

She bit her lip and took a half step towards him. She rose her hand to touch his face, but stopped before she did and let her hand fall again, "Why?" she asked again.

Ron's brow furrowed, "What do you mean why? I bloody love you, that's why."

"You know," she replied slowly, "A lot of girls think that would find that crude."

Ron tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and leaned back slightly, seemingly expecting a row, "And you?" With a quick glance, Hermione took in the small trail of red hair that began at his naval and disappeared under his waistband. She bit back the urge to follow it.

"I wouldn't have you another way," she said.

He flashed her a lopsided grin, "I'll have to remember that, next time you yell at me for cursing," though he'd never admit it, pride swelled within Ron at her words. That she wouldn't change him, even if she could.

Hermione stepped closer to him, and swept a hand through his hair. Her hand lingered on his shoulder; "I'll still reprimand you for it, I'll have you know," she said.

Ron boldly put his hands on her hips and swayed slightly. They were two slowly moving trains on the same track, heading straight for each other. Neither looked away from the other, and their impending collision promised to be earth-shattering. Together, they feared it, anticipated it, and were eager for it.

"But then I'll know that you're not serious, when you do. Defeats the purpose, yeah?"

She put her other hand on his left shoulder and moved ever so slightly closer to him, "Not at all."

"I don't follow," Ron began rubbing agonizingly slow circles on her waist; her top had ridden up just enough for him to touch skin. She closed her eyes and hummed quietly for a moment, but opened them again and looked at him steadfastly; Hermione Granger did not give up so easily.

She leaned in even closer to him so that she had to look up just to meet his eyes, "Well, you see, the purpose doesn't always have to be to get you to actually fix your language, does it?" she stood up on the tips of her toes so that her lips were just before his, "You told me once, how much rowing with me can turn you on. Who's to say that I don't like it just as much? Perhaps more?" her voice implied confidence that she didn't feel in the slightest. Her heart thundered viciously, threatening to batter its way out of her chest. Her mind told her to stop before she did anything else foolish. But, at that moment, foolish was all that she wanted to be.

"Bloody hell," he growled, "You don't play fair, do you?"

Hermione chuckled, "I play to win."

Ron sighed in defeat, "I should have known not to take you on in anything that's not Quidditch or chess. You're too good at everything."

Despite her best efforts, her voice betrayed the uncertainty she felt, "Not everything," she replied quietly.

"Everything," he reaffirmed. His kiss was gentle, and oddly timid at first, though they had kissed many times before. It was the first shy step towards the line that they knew they would inevitably cross. A line that they couldn't step back over.

Hermione responded hungrily, uninterested in tenderness and ravenous for more, more of him. Her hands darted up to his hair and gripped tightly as she pulled him backwards until she felt her legs touch the bed. The aching springs of the mattress groaned in noisy protest as the weight of the two of them fell upon it.

An animalistic instinct overcame Ron then, as he found himself hovering just above Hermione. Her breasts rose and fell quickly in time with her shallow breathing. Her lips were red and wet. Her deep brown eyes were nearly black, and were as wild as he had ever seen them. He was sure, in that moment, that he never wanted to be with another girl the way he was with Hermione; no other could ever make him feel the way she did.

He twisted his hands in her curly brown hair and captured her lips aggressively between his. He sucked on her bottom lip hard before forcing his tongue deep into her mouth, battling her tongue as he did. The moan that escaped her almost undid him.

"Closer," she mumbled against his lips.

He pulled away, in a bit of a daze and finding it hard to think clearly, "What?"

"I need you closer," she said. When he still didn't catch her meaning, she suddenly pushed his arms out from under him so that he was forced to put his entire body weight on her. He settled between her legs, and groaned at the closeness.

"Mmm," she moaned, inadvertently bucking her hips against him, "That feels so good, Ron."

_Fucking hell,_ he thought, _if she keeps saying things like that, I'm going to lose it._

"You do?" he asked as he moved against her again.

She closed her eyes and nodded; her nails raked against his back.

"You're so fucking sexy," he said before he could stop himself, and felt his ears begin to redden after the words left his mouth.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione whimpered as she clung tightly to his back; her breath was hot on his face, her eyes were slightly watery as she looked up at him, "you're so… so… wonderful."

"You're brilliant," he whispered as he detangled his hands from her hair, "and wearing too many clothes, I figure," his hands made quick work of her shirt, and tossed it to the floor. Feeling bold, he covered her bra concealed breasts with his hands and began kneading them gently.

"You are, too," she responded quietly. Ron's eyes widened when he felt her small hands begin to pull his waistband down. In a daze, he lifted his hips so that she could kick them the rest of the way off of his legs; this left him in nothing but his shorts.

"That's not really fair," he mumbled, "I've only got my shorts on, and if I've counted right, you've got three things on."

"You haven't," Hermione said, her face turning bright red.

"I haven't what?"

She bit her lip and looked down, which was a bit of a mistake, because in doing so she caught sight of his erection tenting his shorts. If possible, she turned redder, "You haven't… erm… counted correctly."

"What? But you've got a bra, and your trousers, and knickers. Three," he showed her three fingers to emphasize his point.

"I… I'm not wearing…" she stuttered in embarrassment.

Ron's eyes widened in awe, "You're not wearing any knickers, are you, Hermione?"

She bit her lip again, "I-I… no, I'm not…" when a broad grin spread across Ron's face, she stammered even more, "I thought I had grabbed them! But by the time I realized I had left them in the bag I was already in here and I… just thought I'd-"

Ron put a finger to her lips to hush her, "Hermione, don't explain anymore alright? It's bloody sexy, I'd rather just as well pretend that you're not wearing them just for me, eh?"

Without another word, Hermione reached up, put a hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him down to meet her lips again. As they kissed, Ron reached down again and kneaded her breasts through her bra, pressing against her nipples with his thumbs and rolling them. Impelled on by Hermione's various gasps and whimpers, he reached behind her back and made to unhook the bra.

The bleeding thing might as well have been a combination lock.

Hermione giggled and, after a few moments of his futile efforts, she asked, "Do you want me to get it?"

"No," he growled as he fumbled with the contraption, "I'll get this damn thing undone myself if it's the last bloody thing I do."

After a few more moments of Ron's struggling and quiet cursing, Hermione whispered, "It has two hooks on each band. Just push the two bands together and it'll come undone."

"It can't be that simple," he grumbled, but followed her instructions anyway. By some divine power, the band unfastened, and slipped easily off of Hermione's slim shoulders, "Fucking hell," he said, "How do you put that thing on and take it off every day?"

She chuckled, trying to banish her nervousness at being half-naked beneath him, "It gets easier with practice."

Ron smiled, "You'd save us both a lot of trouble if you just stopped wearing them all together."

She playfully hit his shoulder, "Enough of your cheek."

"Alright then," Ron looked down at her chest and made to reach for her again.

He stopped cold.

On her right breast, were angry red crescent moon shaped scars, four along the top, and one underneath it; he hadn't really realized what Hermione had said, days ago, he had been too angry to really understand everything that she had told him, but now her words echoed through his mind: _I guess he was angry about it, because… he grabbed my… my breast… I have cuts from it._

He shook with hot fury.

"Ron?" Hermione asked nervously.

He said nothing, but instead dipped his head down and gently kissed each scar. His gaze flicked up to meet Hermione's again, and found that her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"They're awful, aren't they?" she whispered, "The scars?"

Ron shook his head slowly, "No, they show how strong you were. How you fought against them, and got away. They're beautiful, because of that. Just like you are."

Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes, "You really can be quite lovely sometimes, Ron."

"Always the tone of the surprise," he replied with a grin; however, his grin faded quickly and he said, "Umm, could I ask you a question? And could you promise not to hex me for it?"

Her brows furrowed "Erm… sure."

"Can I…" he ran his hand back through his hair nervously, "Bloody hell, this is harder to ask than I thought it would be…"

"I promise, I won't get mad," Hermione told him seriously, "just ask it."

Ron took a deep breath, "CanItouchyou?" his words came out in a jumble, but Hermione seemed to understand, and her face reddened in response.

"Y-yes," she whispered, her breathing quickening again, "you… you can touch me."

"Brilliant," Ron breathed. He let his hands roam her body for a few moments more. Appreciating the warmth and softness of her skin, and reflecting that the best decision he ever made was at the end of sixth year, when he came to terms with the fact that he loved Hermione, his best friend.

Finally, he hooked his hands around the waistband of her trousers and began to pull them down. He only saw a small section of the long scars on her legs before she jumped out from underneath him. She moved so quickly that he fell flat on his stomach on the bad. The mattress squeaked in protest.

In a daze, he sat up and looked at Hermione. She was leaning up against the headboard wither her eyes closed, her head leaned back, she brought her legs up against her chestand her arms wrapped around her legs. She appeared to be muttering something to herself, but was so quiet that Ron could not make out the words.

She couldn't banish Lycian's second in command's hungry golden stare from her mind.

"Hermione?" Ron asked anxiously, "I'm so sorry. Was that too much? I was just-"

Hermione interrupted him by putting up a shaking hand, "It's n-not your fault, Ron. Just… just give me a moment… please."

He fell silent, and watched her for a few moments as she shuddered and tried to rein herself in. Then, unable to take it any longer. He shuffled closer to her, and grasped her hand. She squeezed it tightly, thankful for his silent support.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Hey," he responded gruffly, "It's not your fault, alright? It was those sick bastards that did it, not you… this is about that, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded, unable to speak.

"If they weren't in Azkaban," he growled, "I kill them with my bare hands."

When several minutes passed of silence, Ron cleared his throat and asked quietly, "Do you want to be alone? I really don't mind taking the couch, if you want."

Finally, she opened her eyes; they were bloodshot, "No," she responded quietly, "No, can you… can you stay in here, with me? I don't really want to be alone."

Ron nodded and laid his head on one of the pillows; he spread his arms out in an invitation for her to join him. Hermione shuffled up against him, with her back to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. It felt as if nothing could hurt her.

"No worries," he told her as he pulled the blanket over the top of them, "I won't leave you."

"Unless you have to 'take a piss', as you so eloquently called it, right?" Hermione asked.

Ron snorted, "Exactly. It seems we've got it sorted."

"That we do."


	38. Bloody Hell

Author's note: I am so glad that you all seemed to like last chapter. I am not a romantic in the slightest, and it took me days to write that chapter; it was difficult and painful to write, but I'm glad that it seemed to turn out alright.

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

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"Wake up! We've got a new lead and- oh… oh sorry!" Cain had barged into the bedroom at five in the morning, shouting as loudly as he could, obviously expecting to find Ron alone. He gaped for a moment in shock when he found Hermione groggily sitting up next to Ron in bed. The sheets fell down from her, exposing her still naked breasts. It was only a few moments before she became awake enough to realize the state she was in, and who was in the room; she snatched the sheets and pulled them up to her chin.

Cain quickly covered his eyes with his hand and stammered, "I-I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

By this time, the sufficient noise awoke Ron, and he squinted up at Hermione, "What's all the racket for?"

"Get out," she growled, her eyes unmoving from Cain. Ron, seeing that she was speaking to someone else, sat up to see who.

His eyes darkened when he saw Cain standing frozen in the doorway with a hand over his eyes.

"Get out!" Hermione exclaimed again through clenched teeth.

Cain nodded and started inching blindly backwards out of the door, feeling his way out with his free hand, "Sorry! Sorry! I'm so sorry, Ms. Granger, I didn't know or surely I would have-"

Ron sprung out of the bed and across the room to Cain in a single bound; with one hand, he gave him a strong push out of the door that sent him sprawling on the living-room floor. He reached out to the table, snatched the beaded bag, and tossed it back on the bed.

"Here, you can get dressed. I've got a little something to say to Hemler," and before he could get answer from her, he closed the bedroom door behind him, then he turned to Cain, who was sitting on the floor, scowling up at him.

"Get your arse up so I can kick it," Ron growled.

Cain made no move to get up, "I knew she had nice tits, but seeing them like that…" he whistled and smirked.

In a fit of rage, Ron grabbed the Auror by the front of his robes and effortlessly hauled him to his feet. With his face mere inches from Cain's he spoke in a low and dangerous voice, "Don't you fucking dare talk about Hermione like that. Don't. You. _Fucking_. Dare."

Undeterred, Cain responded, "Or what? You'll beat me up? I think you'll find how difficult it really is to go against a trained Auror. Besides, we both know that I can keep saying whatever the hell I want, and you're not going to do a thing about it. You won't even tell Ms. Granger."

"Why do you figure that?"

Cain chuckled, "Because, I know how much you fancy playing hero. You won't tell her, because you don't want to make her upset, or to hate someone who is helping her find her parents. That's the same thing that is keeping you from doing thing else to me. I am perfectly safe behind your foolish gallantry."

Ron released his grip on the man's robes with disgust, "What did I do to you to make you hate me so much?"

"Simple," Cain sneered, "I don't really fancy it when people have unjust claims to fame. You did nothing to deserve your fame. You followed Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter, the most brilliant witch and wizard I have ever had the pleasure to meet, around like a lost puppy, and have gained fame because of their achievements. I find that incredibly sickening."

"You don't know what I've gone through," Ron growled, "I've been in hiding for a year; I was a part of the battle; I watched my brother die."

"Join the rest of us, Weasley. I've also been in hiding, along with other fellow Aurors. I fought in the battle of Hogwarts as well. Many others have lost loved ones. What is it about your experience that makes you so special?"

Ron's face turned red, "I-"

The door behind him opened, and Hermione, now fully clad in robes, stepped through it, past Ron, and straight for Cain. Before the 'highly trained in combat' Auror had time to react, Hermione's flying fist landed in the center of his face with a sickening smack.

Cain howled in pain and stumbled backwards, holding his hand over his wounded nose; blood gushed from between his fingers.

Ron gaped at her, "That was better than that time you hit Malfoy. Bloody hell, you're brilliant."

"Shut it," she said without taking her eyes off of Cain, then she pulled her wand out of her robes and flicked it. The bleeding seemed to stop, and the blood vanished.

"I'm so sorry that I saw what I saw!" Cain exclaimed, looking more like a scolded puppy than a man, "I didn't know!"

"You're barking mad if you think that's what I'm angry about," Hermione told him through gritted teeth, "You're lucky that I don't curse you into oblivion for what you said to Ron."

His brown eyes widened and he lowered his hand, "You… you heard that?"

"Of course I bloody heard it! I'm sure you knew well enough how thin these walls are, what with your listening at them to find just the right time to come get your cloak!"

Cain's face flushed red, "I- I-"

"Don't even try to come up with an excuse for it. I was almost willing to look past that, Mr. Hemler, but what you said to Ron is inexcusable!" Hermione took another step forward with her fists clenched at her sides. Ron stood in awe of her, and was sure that he was falling in love all over again, "Do you even realize all of the things that he's done? He's the reason you're standing where you are! He kept Harry and I going when we didn't know how to. He figured out where to find a certain item that would help defeat Voldemort when I couldn't think of anything. I was tortured, extensively, by Bellatrix Lestrange, and the only reason I didn't lose my mind was because I heard him calling my name. How _dare_ you belittle his achievements because of your foolish jealousy?"

Cain gawked at her, "J-jealousy?"

She laughed cruelly, "What, you think you've been subtle and coy? You would have been more discrete had you worn a sign around your neck that said 'I fancy you Hermione Granger'. And though it at first was a bit flattering, you don't seem to get it in your head that I love Ron! I won't stop loving him, especially not on account of you."

"I don't… I didn't say what I did to _him_ because of… jealousy!" Cain exclaimed, seeming to get a bit of his courage back. Ron almost gave him credit for that much; not many people could stand in front of Hermione in all of her righteous fury and argue back. That's why they were so good together: Ron could argue back. Hermione didn't need someone to push around; she needed someone who she could push who would push back just as hard. She needed a lover and a competitor. It was something that no one else would ever understand, especially the likes of Cain.

"Oh, don't be foolish," Hermione spat, "Of course it's because of jealousy. There is no logic to your accusations of him. And you reproached him for 'playing hero'? Mr. Hemler, Ron Weasley is a hero, and the only one playing at it is you."

The door the lead out to the hallway opened and Jedrek peeked his head in, probably to see what was taking them and what all of the commotion was. Ron signaled to him with a finger to his lips and a gesture between Hermione and Cain to indicate that he shouldn't interfere. Jedrek took in the scene playing out in the middle of the room with fierce grey eyes, the hawklike gaze of an experienced Auror. Once he seemed to decide that there was no real threat, he gave Ron a nod, stepped just in the room and closed the door quietly behind him. He continued to watch with his arms folded; apparently he thought that Hemler had it coming.

Ron didn't know how the man had the patience to work with Cain.

"Ms. Granger," Cain said, "I'm appalled to know you think so little of me, especially after all the effort and time I have put in to find your parents. I only wanted to make you happy."

Hermione did not take the bait and fall for his guilt trip, instead she jammed her finger into his chest, forcing him back half a step. Though Cain had more height than she, Hermione seemed to tower over him. She didn't look to be the petite witch that she was, but instead she looked as if she could call lighting down from the sky and strike Cain down where he stood with little less than a thought, "If you would like to make me happy, as you claim. You will leave Ron alone. You will behave in a professional manner with the both of us. And you will stop calling me 'Mione. It sounds far too much like you are calling me yours and I don't _belong_ to anyone. I give my heart to who I choose, and I will _always_ choose Ron. Do we have an understanding, _Mr._ Hemler?"

"I-"

"I asked if we had an understanding. Make no mistake; I have no qualms about hexing you where you stand just because you're an Auror. Ginny Weasley taught me how to preform an excellent Bat-Bogey Hex."

"But-"

Hermione's harsh voice cut across him, "Mr. Hemler. Do we have an understanding?"

Cain looked down at his feet dejectedly, seeming almost heartbroken as he did, "Yes. Yes we do."

Hermione nodded curtly and stepped back, "Good. Now what was that lead you were talking about this morning?"

Ron applauded himself for his excellent self-control, and preoccupied himself with envisioning the wrinkles underneath Great-Aunt Muriel's mouth that often held dry drool, a bit of mucus, and leftover food from her previous meal; anything to keep himself from doing what he wished he could. To keep himself from pushing her up against the nearest paper-thin wall, pulling her clothes off at a rapid pace, and fucking her so fast and hard that it woke up everyone in the whole damn inn, until she was so disoriented that she didn't care if he called her 'Mione or even Harry so long as he didn't stop, and until she came screaming his name and every profanity that she had ever scolded him for.

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Author's note: Short chapter, I know, but I hope Hermione made up for it for me with her reprimand of Cain. He sure had it coming, yeah? That was so much easier for me to write than the last chapter was, and quite a lot more fun. Personally, I loved writing the last sentence; oh Ron, you surly sexy beast you.

Will Cain have learned his lesson so quickly? No idea, I suppose you will just have to see, eh?

Reviews are always appreciated, if you like this story, or even dislike it, please hit that little review button and let me know what you think.


	39. A Tangled Web

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

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It had been a long day.

Ron was sprawled out on the couch lazily listening to Hermione and Jedrek discuss the large map that they had unfurled over the table.

Cain stood against the wall, brooding like he had been all day. He reminded Ron of the way Harry got sometimes, except Ron had never wanted to Harry as much as he wanted to clock Cain one… well… maybe that one time in the tent, but that didn't count since the bloody locket was tormenting him. Ron discreetly glanced at Cain's eyes more than once, and every time that he did, he saw the Auror's grey eyes trained on Hermione. Hurt from what she had said to him that morning still lingered there, but there was something else in his expression that made Ron want to hex the blighter into oblivion.

"Hermione?" Ron said, drawing his gaze away from Cain.

"Hmm?" Hermione hummed distractedly. Without peering over the couch, Ron knew that she didn't even stop looking down at the map.

"What's this black box thing the couch is facing? Is it some sort of Muggle fireplace? I saw one in Harry's house once, and my dad has one in his shed. He thinks it's a card playing table."

"It's a television, Ron," she replied.

"What's it do?"

"Press the button on the front, underneath the glass part."

Groaning theatrically, Ron rolled off of the couch and crawled over to the black box, "Which button? There's a button that says… vool… I think, with a plus sign next to it, and then another vool button, but this time with a minus sign next to it, a... it's got a c and a h… do I just pronounce it ch? Well it's that, with a plus sign and another ch with a minus sign, a word that I think says… inpoot? Bugger, muggles have mad words. Then-"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, press the one that says power."

"There isn't one," he replied, "but there is a picture of a wand with a circle around it."

"That one," Hermione replied impatiently, then said to Jedrek, "Now are you sure it wasn't here instead? It is really important that these points are exact."

"Actually, I think you are right, Ms. Granger. There were there.

Ron pressed the power button on the television and jumped back in surprise when color flashed across the face of the box. Small men in colored uniforms sprinted across the screen, chasing after a white ball with black spots all over it.

"Brilliant," Ron said in awe as he moved closer to the box, "It's like our pictures… but they keep moving… hey, these blokes are the same ones from Dean's poster. Didn't he call it something barmy? Feetbool?"

"Football," Hermione corrected.

"Football," Ron repeated, "What are they doing to that quaffle? Don't the bleeders knew that they're supposed to hold it? Oi! That bloke's got it in front, he's going towards that net… that Keeper better know what he's- bloody hell! That was a brilliant block! Way to go, mate!"

"He can't hear you," Hermione told him, laughter in her voice. She had finally looked up from the map and was watching him with an amused smile on her face.

"Why the hell not?" Ron asked with his eyes glued to the football dancing back and forth amongst kicking feet.

"It's a telly, Ron. It's not like portraits at school, you can't talk to them. What you are seeing it happening right now."

"Right now? Bloody hell, muggles are more brilliant than I give them credit for… shit! Go man go! It's that same Chaser again, he's almost- fuck! One of the other bleeding Chasers took it from him!"

Hermione chuckled, "You sound just like my dad when he's watching football, except he doesn't call them Chasers and Keepers."

"What are they called?" he asked.

She shrugged, "I don't know; I know about as much about football as I know about Quidditch," finally, her gaze fell back down to the large map of Australia before her. She gasped.

"Jedrek," she whispered, her voice distraught, "Jedrek, do you see the pattern here?"

Jedrek looked closer at the map. After they had spent most of the day following different leads to different dead ends, Hermione had purchased a large map of Australia and insisted upon plotting every place that they had discovered the Grangers had been. It had been hours of painstaking work, and Hermione had insisted the entire time that she did have a point in doing it.

Finally, Jedrek straightened, "I'm sorry, I can't see any sort of pattern. It seems all random. One time they were in a large city, and another time they were actually camped in the middle of nowhere, with not a house for miles in every direction. We found the remains of their campfire only a day after they left. The only thing that I notice is that the points seem to be growing closer and closer to their area, which is why we chose this inn to stay at."

Hermione looked up at him, "Exactly."

The fear in her voice made Ron drag himself away from the television and walk to her side. Hermione took up the quill and drew a precise line between one point and another, and another, and another, systematically connecting every dot in the map with long, sweeping motions. At first, her drawing seemed to start out with one big circle with a slightly smaller one inside of it, and a smaller one inside of that one, and so on, but then she began drawing short, brisk lines in several different places, connecting the circles until it began to look like a giant spider's web stretching in black ink across a large part of Australia. It had only a small hole directly in its center. Ron didn't like the thought of Hermione's parents being in the middle of it.

"Merlin," Cain whispered, he had finally left his solemn post against the wall and stared at the map, transfixed. So intense was his curiosity that for a moment he dropped his disdainful air. The three men poured over the map in equal and intense interest. Hermione's face became deathly pale.

With a shaking hand, Hermione dipped the quill in the inkwell once again, then made a small spot in the middle of the hole in the web.

"This is where they should be. It's the last step in the web, we don't have much time. Whoever cast this on them is going to k-kill them… if they haven't already," Hermione said in a hushed voice, "It looks to be not far from here… I would say a maximum of three miles in each direction should be the span of our search."

Ron swallowed, "What is that, Hermione?"

"_Aranea Laquem_," she replied, "It's a c-complex spell, highly dangerous to perform, and can only be cast on m-muggles. Voldemort invented it, but decided it was a too trivial and complicated way to torment muggles when the Cruciatus curse was so much quicker and readily available. So he usually only saved it for muggle families of high ranking muggle-born officials, to punish them for their birth.

"It is a sort of web that ensnares its victims. Those who have it cast on them feel as if walls are closing in on them from the side and from behind, and have no choice but to follow this pattern here. At first it starts out as a nagging fear, in this outer circle, and as they keep moving inward, it becomes a terror. By the time they reach the place where my parents are now, they can't even think for the fright of it. Every night, nightmares plague the victims of this curse to keep them moving in the pattern without question," she pointed to the spot in the middle, "Once they get here. They can't move more than a few paces from the spot that they are set to. The caster is then alerted that they have reached the middle point, and they can come… do with them what they choose. While they run from the fear that chases them, they become more and more frightened, it's t-torture," she pointed to the various lines connecting the circles, giving it its web-like appearance, "These points increase the victims fear as they pass them, and further insnare them in the spell. Like when a fly becomes caught in a spider's web, the more it stuggles the more trapped it becomes. Since the entire path is a spell form, after a certain point, it becomes impossible to free victims from it. After a certain point, only the caster can remove the spell."

"We'll... we'll make them remove it," Ron said, unsure of himself as he did, "How does this spell get cast?"

"Like I said, it's a long and complex process… unless certain circumstances are right. By changing their memories and sending them off to a place they didn't know, I made it easy for them. All they had to do was find a personal item from each of them… easily accessible at my home…" Hermione looked away as she blinked away tears fighting to the surface.

Ron pulled her quickly to him, "No worries, Hermione. We'll find 'em, I promise we will," he looked over her head at the two Aurors, "Let's move! You heard her, three miles out at the most!"

Jedrek nodded seriously and grabbed Cain by the arm and began dragging him out behind him. Hemler afforded the moment to shoot Ron a dirty look over his shoulder before he left.

Hermione pulled back and looked up at Ron, the whites of her eyes already red, "Ron, if I'm right, we only have a few hours."

"Then we'd best move quick then, yeah? I promised we'd find them, and I'll make another promise, too… we're going to save them, we're going to make whatever git cast it take that wonky spell off of them, and we're going to give them back their memories, alright?"

Hermione nodded with a new steel in her eyes. She grabbed Ron's hand and pulled him out of the room, into the hallway, and down the stairs. Ron matched her frantic stride, and her curly brown hair flew out behind her wildly as she ran. They pushed violently past muggles that tried to make their way up the stairs, and were followed by various shouts and curses of people angry at such affrontery. As they ran, they both drew their wands effortlessly from their robes. This was something that had become all too familiar to them. The need to run, to hurry and think quickly before all was lost was nothing new to the two best friends of Harry Potter. They came to the base of the stairs, and began to sprint through the lobby when Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Ron skidded to a halt and turned to face her, "What's wrong, Hermione? We've got to go if we are going to find them in time."

She said nothing, but stared wide eyed towards the middle of the lobby of the inn.

Ron followed her gaze to a couple standing huddled together on the lobby couch, shaking violently in fear. He recognized barely recognized them as Mr. and Mrs. Granger until he saw Mrs. Granger look up for a fleeting moment. Hermione had her hair and her eyes, exactly.

It made his heart stop.

Straight across from them was a man with nearly white blond hair and pale eyes. His pointed features and sweeping cloak made him look like a fierce bird of prey. Draco Malfoy stood with his wand raised and pointed directly at the Grangers, and his mouth moving slightly, murmering a silent spell.

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Author's note: Really, you should be expecting this from me by now.


	40. Good Intent

Author's note: I know what you are all wondering, "Where did Karissa go? The amazing girl who updated every five seconds?" Well, she got burried under semester finals, dog fostering, and holidays, but now that at least two out of three of those things are out of the way, she's trying to make her comeback.

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

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With a quick glance around, Ron found that the room was not as it first had appeared. Muggles, who had first seemed to be mulling around, talking amongst themselves, were frozen in time. One man's hand was held in place just above his head, frozen in a gesture to the person listening intently to him. Two women were both mid-stride, nearly to the door, in what seemed to be animated conversation; purses hung at the crook of their elbows and still swung ever so slightly from their recent and abrupt stop.

At the edge of the lobby, Cain and Jedrek were each frozen in a crouch. Jedrek's wand was raised, his mouth slightly open, just a moment away from cursing Malfoy, a moment too late. Cain's hand was just drawing his wand from where he kept it on his belt.

Only Malfoy, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Hermione, and Ron stood uninhibited in the room.

So entranced was he in his spellwork, that Malfoy didn't seem to notice them enter. He continued to murmur and flick his wand slightly in various directions in a deadly rhythm.

"Please," Mr. Granger pleaded, gripping his wife tighter, "Please, don't hurt us. Please," tears ran down his face, and his wife sobbed hysterically into his shoulder, clinging to him madly, as if he were the only thing that held her to the ground, only thing that kept her alive. Mr. Granger wrapped his hand in his wife's brown hair, and reminded Ron of the many times he had done the same. It was the most tragically beautiful thing Ron had ever seen.

Malfoy said nothing to the people so terrified of him.

Forgetting for a moment that he was a wizard and had a wand in his hand, Ron sprang at Draco with his arms outstretched. He slammed into Malfoy's side and tackled him roughly to the ground, but before Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand, a jet of light erupted from it and hit the Grangers. The force of the spell sent both of them flying backwards over the couch. Hermione screamed.

Malfoy grunted as he hit the ground and Ron's full weight slammed down on top of him. Ron raised his fist and screamed, "After all the times we saved your fucking arse, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Draco's eyes stared up in wide fear at Ron's poised fist and wild eyes. All Ron could think of was the woman that looked just like Hermione, and the man that held her close: dead, because of Malfoy.

"Ron! Wait, Ron! They're alright!" Hermione's voice pulled Ron out of his blind rage. He lowered his fist slightly.

"What?"

"They're alright! He didn't hurt them! They're alright!" she sobbed in relief.

He looked down at Malfoy, who quickly lost his fear once he saw that Ron wasn't going to hit him, and put on his familiar sneer, "That's right, Weaselbee, I didn't hurt your precious muggles. Now get off me, you twit."

Ron raised his brow, "You're not really in any sort of position to be calling anyone names, now are you?" he waggled his fist in Malfoy's face, "I still owe you quite a few good punches from over the years," he felt a strong twinge of satisfaction when Malfoy's smile disappeared again.

Hermione's small hand wrapped around Ron's arm and pulled him off of Malfoy, "Come on, Ron. Now's not the time to settle old scores."

She waited until Malfoy got to his feet before turning on him with wrath shining bright in her eyes, "You took the curse off of them," it wasn't a question.

Malfoy made a show of smoothing down his robes, "You're welcome, Granger."

Hermione made a threatening step towards him, her wand tight in her fist. Malfoy eyes the weapon nervously, "I'll not be thanking you any time soon, Malfoy, because that means that you were the one who put the spell on them in the first place. You know what torture that is. You sick, vile, coward."

The tone of her voice made even Ron want to take a step back. Malfoy looked to be recounting the time she had hit him, and didn't seem to be in the mood to repeat the experience. He seemed to have aged ten years since they had last been school mates. Dark shadows hung beneath his eyes, giving him a look of such exhaustion that Ron thought that he might collapse at any moment. He was thinner, and his cheekbones were far more pronounced than before. His hair fell limp and lifeless around his pale face. Though he tried to recreate it with his words, his normal haughty air was gone. He no longer was the spoiled, jaded little rich boy he once was. He had seen the affects of the bigotry he had carried around and flaunted for his most of his life, and had paid dearly for it.

Something happened within Ron that he never thought would ever occur: he felt sorry for the little git.

"I- I didn't have a choice," Malfoy said weakly, he no longer sounded his usual conceited self, he just sounded tired.

Hermione ground her teeth, "You always have a choice."

Malfoy shook his head, "I didn't. The Dark Lord would have killed me, killed my parents. Traitors to the cause were treated the same as Blood-traitors and Mudbloods."

"Don't say that word," Ron growled.

Malfoy's pale grey eyes flicked to Ron for a moment, then back to Hermione.

"He wanted me to torture and kill them… and you, Granger, to send a message to Potter. I went to your home, with the Dark Lord, but you were all already gone. That's when he taught me the spell. He always found it very amusing, as well as a great punishment for my parents, to push me in difficult things he was sure I would fail, and he always threatened to kill me parents if I did fail. I didn't fail, and me doing that gave you some more time. I was doing you a favor."

"You could have left them alone!" Hermione shrieked, "You could have lied, pretended that you did it, you could have-"

Malfoy's eyes burned, "Do you know how difficult it is… was… to lie to the Dark Lord? My skills in occlumency would have been shattered in a moment if he had tried to break me! The only person who has ever lied to the Dark Lord and gotten away with it is Professor Snape. If I had refused, my parents and I would be dead, and so would your parents, because someone else would have likely done it, someone who wouldn't have taken the spell off."

Hermione looked to her parents. They were both lying unconscious on the floor, but seemed almost comfortable, peaceful. Unable to let go of her anger so easily, she gestured to the two Aurors, still frozen in time and battle ready, "What did you do to them? Some sort of dark magic, I suppose?

"No," Draco spat, "Quite the opposite, actually."

He drew the sleeve of his robe up, revealing a thick band forged of white gold around his wrist, "It's the Band of Bonae Voluntatis," he said smugly, his old sneer graced his face again; "It's a family heirloom. I suppose you wouldn't understand, Weasley, considering the most valuable thing your family has to pass down is an old sock. It's been in the Malfoy family for generations upon generations. No one has gotten it to work, until now."

He gestured to the people, still unmoving, around them, "It has the power to magnify spells to affect an entire room, instead of just one person. The Dark Lord tried to use it for himself, so that he could use it to kill multiple people with one spell, but found that even he could not work it. He made me wear it, had a right laugh about how only the Malfoy family could create a weapon that no one could use. I found that I was able to use it only two days ago," he smirked, "Guess the Malfoy family's riches weren't for nothing, yeah?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, deep in thought for a moment, as her lips murmured the words _Bonae Voluntatis_. Then, an understanding came across her eyes as she looked up at Malfoy; her anger melted away.

"Can it, Malfoy," Ron snapped, "We get it, you're rich, come off it. You'd think that you'd have realized by now that it doesn't matter anymore. I don't believe for a second that you came here because you wanted to save Hermione's parents. You're here to keep your own arse out of Azkaban. Yeah, I saw in the Prophet how you didn't get locked up because of your last minute switch to save your own skin."

Draco raised an eyebrow, but instead of another snide comment, he merely asked, "Who else's skin did I have to save?"

Again, Ron felt an aggravating stab of pity for Malfoy, that he never knew what it was like to love someone else so much to be willing to give his life for them.

"Just get out of here," Ron grumbled, "Just unfreeze them, and leave."

Malfoy glared at Ron for a long moment, and then reached over to the band on his wrist. Ron could barely see the remnants of the Dark Mark on his arm, it had faded to a dark pink, the same color as Harry's scar. Malfoy twisted the band.

The affects were immediate.

"-ify!" Jedrek finished shouting, though nothing came from his wand because of the interruption in his spell.

"Protego!" Hermione cast a shield between Malfoy and the Aurors, just in time to deflect Cain's spiraling curse, "Stop!" she shouted, "Stop! He helped them! He took off the spell!"

The two Aurors stopped and lowered their wands.

Malfoy turned to leave.

"Draco," Hermione said quietly, stopping him in his tracks.

Without turning to her, Malfoy nodded briskly and said, "Hermione," and without another word, strode out of the inn. The last they saw of him was the flitter of his cloak as the door closed behind him.

It was the kindest Hermione and Draco had ever been to each other: calling each other by their first names, and without a trace of disgust.

Then, they remembered the muggles. They remained in the places they were in just moments before when held by Malfoy's spell, but instead they were frozen by fear, and shock, and every head was turned towards the wizards in the middle of the lobby.

"Malfoy's bracelet thing sure would come in handy right about now," Ron muttered to Hermione.

His words seemed to release a man from his stupor. The man, with one hand wrapped around a large wooden cross that hung from his neck, took a timid step forward, and raised a long, boney finger to point accusingly at Hermione, whose shimmering shield charm had just fallen, "W-witch," he whispered at first, then he seemed to regain his voice, "Witch! Get her! Witch!"

Almost as one mind, everyone in the inn surged towards Hermione. Some seemed reluctant, but were pushed forward by others behind them. They rushed at Hermione out of fear, of anger, and even of hatred. They had seen her preform a feat that was unexplainable and contrary to everything they knew and believed. They believed that she was a threat, and that she must be destroyed.

Ron would have been afraid for Hermione, had there been more of them, but it was a small inn. There were not nearly enough muggles there to be any sort of threat to her.

Almost lazily, Jedrek cast a shield charm, this time between the muggles and Hermione and Ron. One man made a leap for them, but smacked into the translucent shield as heavily as he would have hit a brick wall. Cain locked the doors.

"Take your parents upstairs into your room and restore their memories," Jedrek told Hermione, "We'll alter the muggle's memories of the incident. We may be a while, can you and Ron handle it?"

Hermione nodded, "We'll take them," her voice shook, and her eyes were filled with tears, but Ron couldn't fathom why.

Together, Ron and Hermione pointed their wands at the Grangers, both of whom were still unconscious, and rose them from the ground; using the same charm that the Healers at Saint Mungos used to move their patients. They avoided making eye contact with the muggles that pounded furiously on the shield. The man who had called Hermione a witch dug furiously at it with his wooden cross; Cain moved silently around the room, modifying memories one by one.

They walked slowly up the stairs with the Grangers hovering in front of them. Hermione wiped her eyes with her free hand and sniffed.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Ron finally asked, "I figured you'd be happy; you're parents are safe and they are about to get their memories back."

"I am, I just- those muggles in there… I don't know if I'll ever belong completely in one world or the other…"

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head, clearly not intending to answer him, "Do you remember what Malfoy called the band around his wrist?" she didn't wait for his response, "He called it The Band of Bonae Voluntatis. Do you know what that means? When he said it, I don't think he knew what it meant either."

They came to a stop at the door of their room. Hermione stopped and looked to Ron, her brown eyes appraised him seriously, "It means The Band of Good Intent. I suppose that no one in the Malfoy family ever bothered to understand what that means, but I've read about weapons like that; weapons that can magnify spells one hundred fold. Very few were created long ago, but the makers didn't want them to fall into the wrong hands, so they spelled them so that they could only be used for good intentions. Malfoy didn't help my parents just for himself; I suppose he didn't want to take lives."

She opened the door, and led her mom through. They laid the Grangers gently on the bed beside each other, and Hermione set to giving them back their memories; their memories of their lives as the Grangers, with a daughter who went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

An hour passed. Halfway through, the Aurors came into the room and watch silently as Hermione cast spells over her sleeping parents, restoring what she had taken from them. Ron never left her side.

"Alright," she finally said with a sigh, "it's done. I can only hope that I did it right."

Ron reached up and squeezed her shoulder, "Hey, you're Hermione, 'course you did it right."

She offered him a weak smile in return, "You'll help me to explain all of it to them? They deserve to know all of the truth, but I don't know if I can tell it alone."

He nodded.

Hermione raised her wand again and whispered one simple spell; "Rennervate."

X

X

Author's note: jesrod82, you get _two_ virtual cookies.

Alright, here is my customary character analysis of Draco Malfoy: he's an ass, he's a bigot, and he's a coward. I hate fan fictions that decide to make him a knight in shining armor, and forget who he really is. His only redeeming qualities seem to be that he does not want to kill, torture, or maim and that he is capable of love (his family, Crabbe, Goyle). That's why I believe that he would have gone to Australia to lift the curse from Hermione's parents: he does not want to kill, no matter how big he may have talked in the past. He's not evil, but that doesn't stop him from being a complete asshole. However, I do think that he will have changed at least in the slightest bit after his experiences, which is why I have that small exchange between him and Hermione. It isn't reconciliation, but I see it as it being the first time that he recognizes her as a human being, which I think is more significant, and more in character.

The only time I will ever love Draco Malfoy, is in the play "A Very Potter Musical" (and its sequel), because he is hilarious and nothing like himself and literally rolls all over the floor whilst talking about Pigfarts. I just recently discovered it and watched it; I suggest you do the same, if you are fond of laughing.


	41. A Story to Tell

Author's note: Alright, I've gotten a few questions about when this story is going to end, and rest assured, it is nowhere near the end right now. With the last chapter I finally set down all of the groundwork for a major conflict in this story. We've got a while yet, dear readers; I'm going to have to ask you to be patient with me and trust me, because I plan to have every single loose end tied up by the end of this thing. It's going to be a long one, but I hope the content and the shortness of the chapters make up for its overall length. I have great things planned for you, so no worries.

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

X

X

Mrs. Granger opened her eyes first, and immediately her gaze went to Hermione.

"Hermione?" she sat up and gently touched her daughter's cheek, "Hermione, is that you?"

Hermione nodded and smiled, her eyes brimmed with tears, "Yes, mum. Yes, it's me."

Mrs. Granger furrowed her brow, "What's happened… that pale boy with the blond hair… he didn't hurt your father did he?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, no he didn't. Dad is right here. The pale boy took the spell off of you, the spell that has been chasing you for the last year."

Mrs. Granger nodded, "I noticed that the fear was gone."

Mr. Granger opened his eyes and put a hand to his head, groaning. Hermione started to move closer to him when her mother reached out and gripped her arm in a panic, "Hermione, my name… it is Jean Granger, isn't it? Not Monica Wilkins?"

Hermione stared at her mother, wide-eyed, "Yes, mum. Your name is Jean Granger, and Dad is Hugo Granger," Hermione tried to move to her father again, but Mrs. Granger held her still tighter.

"Hermione, where have you been? I remember the last year, with your father, but I don't remember seeing you at all. I don't even remember knowing that you were gone. Hermione, what's happened?"

"I'd like to know the same," Mr. Granger groaned with his hand still to his head, "and why I have such a bloody headache."

"Dad," Hermione breathed. She reached over and touched his hand, as if to reassure herself that he was real, then smiled, "The headache is probably from the tumble you took over the couch when Malfoy took the spell off of you."

Hugo Granger sat up, "Malfoy… Malfoy, Malfoy… oh, isn't he that boy that bothered you so much in school?"

Hermione nodded, "The same. He was a Death Eater, and cast the spell that hunted you for the last year. He just took it off."

"And the rest?" Mr. Granger asked, "Why I distinctly remember calling your mother Monica for the last year?"

Biting her lip, Hermione said, "It's… quite a long story. Perhaps you'd like to rest first…"

Mrs. Granger shook her head, "No. No, we need to hear it now, Hermione. I couldn't get any rest with all of these questions unanswered in my head."

"Well now I know where Hermione gets it," Ron interjected. The three Grangers looked at him and he shrugged, "She never could sleep well, or think of anything else really, until she had an answer to a question."

"She did inherit that from her mother," Mr. Granger agreed, "as well as her good looks, and thank god the only things she inherited from me are her nerves… you're Ron, aren't you? I'm afraid I've seen you very little, considering how much my daughter spoke of you."

Ron nodded, "Yeah, that's me."

"Hermione, please, tell us what's happened," Mrs. Granger pleaded, "I… we need to know everything."

Hermione looked around nervously, and it took Ron a few moments to realize the source of her discomfort; Though Jedrek had had the good grace to leave when he saw the Grangers come to, Cain still stood, with arms crossed, in front of the door.

Ron got to his feet and stormed over to Cain. He kept his voice low so that the Grangers couldn't hear him; "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"My job. I am guarding you and Ms. Granger," Cain replied simply.

"We're not in any fucking danger. Get the hell out of here."

"Oh, but you can't be sure of that. Danger lurks everywhere, Mr. Weasley. Who are you to say that the torture of the _Aranea Laquem_ spell didn't drive her parents mad? Who are you to say that Mr. Granger won't lunge over and attempt to strangle Ms. Granger's pretty little throat?"

"I am perfectly capable of protecting Hermione against muggles," Ron growled.

"That's debatable, Mr. Weasley," Cain sneered.

Ron closed his eyes and took a deep breath, determined not to let Cain get the best of him in front of Hermione's parents, "Even if I wasn't capable, Hermione is. She's taken on three werewolves at once before, she doesn't need protection against her own parents."

Cain chuckled, "I can't deny that. Even so, I am quite interested to hear the story of your grand adventure, Weasley. I'd love to know just how _little _the grand hero, Ronald Weasley, actually did."

"I couldn't care less if you heard it, Hemler," Ron snapped back, still keeping his voice low, "But Hermione does care. There are things that happened that aren't your business… aren't anyone's business except ours. So get out now, and I won't tell Hermione the little prick comments you've made."

"I'd-"

"Or," Ron interrupted, "I could easily just whisper what you've said to me in Hermione's ear, and she can kick you out herself."

"Need to go tattling, Weasley? I knew you couldn't handle yourself like a man."

Ron just grinned, "Oh don't think I don't know what you're doing. You and I both know I could clock you one right now, and gladly. But, I'm not going to fall for your shit, not with her parents there. I'm not going to let you get the best of me, you know why?"

Cain frowned, "Where are you going with this?"

Ron leaned closer to him and smiled broadly, "Because I've got her. I've got Hermione, and as long as I do, I won't let little shits like you mess that up for me."

Cain gritted his teeth and scowled, "For now you have her, but not for long. Soon, she'll realize just how worthless you are, and I'll be there," with that final word, he stepped out of the door and closed it behind him.

Hermione smiled at Ron appreciatively when he turned around, then looked to her parents, "I altered your memories," she choked out, "with magic."

"Go on," Mr. Granger said, his voice deadly serious.

Ron reached out and squeezed Hermione's hand for support as she went on, "At the end of 6th year, Death Eaters stormed the castle, and Dumbledore was killed. I-… I didn't tell you that because after it happened, Harry decided to go out in search of Horcruxes… which were parts of Voldemort's soul. Only after all of his Horcruxes were destroyed could Voldemort himself be killed. Harry wanted to go it alone; but Ron and I, we told him we were going with him, to the end. So I… altered your memories. I made you think that you were Monica and Wendell Wi-Wilkins, and that your greatest ambition was to move to Australia. I made you forget that I existed."

"Why would you do such a thing?" asked Mrs. Granger, horrified.

"To keep you safe," Hermione replied. Ron felt her hand shaking in his own, "And it was very likely that I was going to die, and if I did, at least you wouldn't have missed me. You could have gone on with your lives and-"

"Not our lives," Mr. Granger interrupted, "Monica and Wendell's lives. Our lives were over when you cast that spell," the hurt in his voice was unmistakable, "How could you do that to us, Hermione? It's like you just… you just put us in storage."

When Hermione looked unable to speak, Ron said, "She never forgave herself for what she did to you. She told me so, the night before we went to fetch Harry. She said that she didn't see any other way that you could be safe. And even if the Death Eaters somehow found you in Australia, there is a small chance that they could have left you alone, when they found out your memory of her was gone. She was just trying to protect you both."

"Then how did that boy cast that spell on us?"

"It was my fault," Hermione blurted out, "I didn't even consider anyone casting such a complicated spell, especially not on you. All Malfoy needed was something personal from each of you. He found what he needed in our home. I was so stupid to not think of that spell."

"It was a rare and complicated spell that I don't understand at all," Ron added, "It wasn't her fault. The Death Eaters are just evil bastards."

"What's happened the last year?" Mrs. Granger asked, "That man, Voldemort, is he dead? Is Harry alright? What happened?"

"Harry's alright," Hermione replied, "And he killed Voldemort about a month ago…" she glanced over to Ron for support before she let out a deep breath and began her tale, starting with when they brought Harry from the Dusley's home to the Burrow, and making her way steadily through everything that had happened to them since. The way she talked about it sounded to Ron how a history book would tell it. The way she told it made it seem like it had happened to other people, people with no emotions, no fear, and no hearts to break.

Only when she skipped from talking about their first communication with the portrait of Phineas Nigellus straight to their visit to Godric's Hollow did Ron interrupt her.

"Wait, Hermione, you missed something," he said.

"I don't think I did, Ron," she glanced at him, warning him not to go on.

"No, I need to own up to what I did, Hermione," he looked wearily at her parents, "I left. The horcrux, it messed with my head when I wore it-"

"With everyones' heads," Hermione interjected, "When Harry wore it he became more agitated and gloomy; he couldn't even fight off Dementors, which he always could before, when he had it on. And when I wore it… it affected all of us. It was a piece of Voldemort's soul."

Ron looked at her for a long moment, wondering what it was that the locket did to her when she wore it and if it was anything along the lines of what happened when she destroyed the Hufflepuff cup in the Chamber of Secrets, then he continued, "It did me in the worst though. I constantly yelled at Hermione and Harry when the food wasn't good enough, or when there wasn't enough, or when we didn't make enough progress."

"Ron…" Hermione whispered, but he didn't look at her, too ashamed of what he had done.

"I saw Hermione sometimes give me larger portions of food, and take less for herself, and I didn't say anything. When I had the locket around my neck all I could think about was how it still wasn't enough, how it wasn't good enough, and how she was probably only doing it because she felt bad for me and because she really fancied Harry and not me…"

Ron felt the tips of his ears turn red, "Then, after Hermione and Harry talked to Phineas Nigellus, I got in this big row with Harry and… I left. Hermione stayed with him, of course, because she's smart and a good friend, and I left… I wanted to return as soon as I left, but I landed in a band of Snatchers. Snatchers were people who went hunting for Muggleborns on the run. By the time I was able to escape and get back to where Harry and Hermione were camped, they were gone. It took me weeks to get back to them, and all I could think about was… what if they had died? What if they had died and I wasn't there to die with them? I reckon I'd… I don't know how I would have gone on living if that had happened. I don't think I'd really want to live in a world without Hermione…and Harry, too."

A dead silence fell across them.

Ron finally dared a look at Hermione, and found her staring back at him with powerful affection. So she hadn't changed her mind about loving him after all.

"And you learned that she didn't really fancy Harry, didn't you boy?" Mr. Granger asked gruffly.

"Y-yes, sir," Ron stammered.

"Good, because you'd be a right idiot if you didn't, and I could never approve of my daughter dating an idiot."

"I was an idiot for leaving them," said Ron.

"That you were. But you came back didn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you stuck with them to the end?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Granger nodded approvingly, "Then you've got brains enough. And don't worry too much: anyone looks stupid next to Hermione, just like I look like a complete moron next to her mother," Mrs. Granger smiled weakly at her husband, and he added, "It's just something you have to get used to."

Ron grinned, "I got used to that by second year, Mr. Granger."

Mr. Granger smiled slightly before nodding to Hermione, "Go on."

Hermione recounted what had befallen her and Harry at Godric's Hollow. It was a story Ron hadn't gotten to hear much of, and so listened to the full tale with interest. He felt sick when Hermione told them in detail about the snake attack, and just how close they had been to facing Voldemort himself. Ron hadn't been there, and he had been so close to losing his two best mates. How would it have been to read of their deaths in the Daily Prophet?

"Then, Harry said Voldemort's name. Ron had told us that it was taboo, that the use of the name was how the Death Eaters tracked their enemies, but Harry forgot…"

Though Hermione's parents seemed slightly confused at the sudden change in Hermione's voice, Ron knew what was to come. They had talked long into the night before about what would happen once she restored her parents' memories. She had made him promise her to tell them what happened in the Malfoys' Manor if she couldn't find the strength to. She felt that, after taking everything away from them for a year, they deserved to know everything.

But now she seemed determined to tell them herself. She stared at a point a foot to the right of her father's head before continuing, "A group of Snatchers surrounded our tent, and forced us out. I was just able to hit Harry with a stinging jinx that made him unrecognizable to them. Harry nearly lied us out of capture, but then they saw my picture in the paper... and they realized who Harry was.

"They tied us up and took us to the Malfoys' home. Bellatrix… Lestrange was there as well. She was Voldemort's most devoted… and most sadistic… servant. Draco Malfoy, the one who put the spell on you, was brought forward to identify me. He said he didn't know, but they pushed him further and he finally admitted that I was who they thought I was, and he identified Ron as well. Though he didn't definitively identify Harry, his parents and Bellatrix deduced who he was a prepared to summon Voldemort. That's when Bellatrix saw the Sword of Gryffindor in one of the Snatcher's hands. She was suddenly very frightened. She stunned all of the Snatchers, and ordered for the prisoners to be put in the cellar… all of them except me, the Mudblood."

Mrs. Granger's hand flew up to her mouth as she gasped, her brown eyes wide and suddenly tearful.

"Ron tried to take my place," Hermione went on, "But couldn't. Bellatrix told him t-that… that if I… died… under questioning, that she would take him next."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ron put a hand on her back and felt her shake.

"Do you want me to take over?" he asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head once, took another deep breath, and opened her eyes, though she refused to look up at anyone. Her voice took on a distant quality to it, as if she were reliving it all as she spoke, "I had read about the Cruciatus Curse before; it is said to feel like a thousand white-hot knives piercing your body all at once…. but reading it… or hearing about it… can never prepare you for the real thing. I remember only parts of what actually happened… I- I remember Bellatrix asking me where we got the sword; I… remember lying to her… and telling her that we found it and that it was only a copy, and I remember hearing Ron down in the cellar, screaming my name, but for the most part, all I can remember… is the pain. Later, Ron told me all that happened."

She went on to say, in the same hallow voice, what Ron had told her. That they had found Luna in the cellar, how Dobby had rescued them, the chandelier, and Dobby's death. Silent tears ran down her mother's face as she gripped onto her husband's shirt tightly. Mr. Granger's nostrils flared and his hands tightened into fists, not even attempting to hide his anger.

"After I told my lie, and they brought the Goblin up, Bellatirx decided that she had no further use for me, but she kept cursing me. I began to forget who I was, where I was, what was happening. She finally stopped when she questioned Griphook, but I was barely conscious by then, and was still trying to remember my own name."

Ron shook as he remembered hearing her screams, and how they got worse after she had told Bellatrix that it was a copy. He remembered them tearing through him as he stood locked in the cellar, unable to do anything but pound at the walls in furious desperation. Her screams had been as loud as they would have been had he been standing right next to her.

"What I remember after Ron pulled me out from under the chandelier and we disapparated, was the sound of the ocean, and a few words here and there. Ron took me to Shell Cottage, where his older brother Bill and his wife Fleur live. Fleur healed me, and I came down to be there when they buried D-Dobby," Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes, "He was the bravest House Elf… n-no… he was one of the b-bravest creatures I have ever met, and if it weren't for him I… well I'd be dead now, or worse… and so would Ron, and Harry. You two would never have had your memories back, or been freed from that spell. Voldemort would still be in power..." she sobbed into her hands, unable to speak anymore.

"I think…" began Mr. Granger, his voice sounded gruff, as if he, too, were about to start crying, "That I'd like to visit this elf's grave, to thank him."

Hermione moved over a wrapped her arms around her father's neck, and he embraced her tightly. Her shoulders shook as she cried into his shoulder.

Ron wasn't surprised, that Hermione was able to tell of her own sufferings without emotion, and then cried when mentioning the death of a House Elf. He loved her for it, and had to take deep breaths to maintain his own composure. If not for Dobby, Hermione would have been given to Greyback.

"_And I think… we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."_

"_I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you've done tonight."_

Ron stomach lurched, and after quickly excusing himself, walked out of the door, determined to take a short little walk down the hallway to clear his mind and banish the sickness he felt.

Standing in the hallway, with a long flesh-colored string in one hand that ran under the doorway and into the room where they had been speaking, was Cain Hemler.

The Auror smiled at Ron and held up the Extendable Ear, "Give your brother my thanks."


	42. The Reaction

Author's note: I'm not going to say much; just that I have gotten a few questions and comments regarding different characters and sequences, and all I am going to do is ask you to have a little patience and to trust me. If I do my job correctly, which I think I will, everything will make sense in the end. Nothing has been without reason.

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

X

X

Ron felt his face heat up in fury as he stood motionless in front of the door; his hand was still gripping the door knob tightly.

Cain continued to grin smugly as he began wrapping up the Extendable Ear in his hand, "Quite a nifty invention. I ordered it not a year and a half ago, never even opened the box until just two weeks back. Glad I took it along," he stopped rolling the flesh colored string and met Ron's gaze, his eyes bright, "So, you left her, did you Weasley? And she still took you back? I guess that means she'll keep you no matter what, eh?" He pocketed the Weasely product and muttered, "What a stupid bitch."

Cain's wand fell out of his sleeve and clattered to the ground, such was the force that Ron flew at him. The Auror slammed back into the wall, and there was a loud crack that Ron hoped that didn't only come from the damaged drywall. His arms didn't rise in time to block Ron's fist from striking his nose brutally. There was the definitive snap of cartilage under Ron's fist, and blood dripped from Cain's chin and stained his lips.

"DON'T YOU EVER CALL HERMIONE THAT" Ron screamed in rage. Cain howled and put a hand to his nose; he sputtered, spraying Ron's shirt with blood. Ron let his fist fly into Cain's stomach with as much force as he could muster, "DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?"

Ron felt strong hands grip his arms and try to pull him back, but he continued to fight against their force and tried in vain to land a kick. Cain slid down the wall to the ground, still wailing; his blood gushed though his fingers.

A choking feeling of anger and desperation welled up within Ron as he struggled against whoever was holding him back. Words spilled from his mouth, fragmented and angry as he continuously tried to bear down on Cain again, to beat those words into the man's skull.

A deep voice grunted something in his ear and the grip around his arms tightened, but Ron couldn't place the words into anything cohesive. He was dragged back a few steps farther.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT ABOUT HER!"

"Ron! Ron stop it, stop it! Ron, calm down!" Hermione's words crashed through his mind where Jedrek's could not, "Ron! STOP!"

The iron grip around Ron's arms slackened as Ron stopped pulling against it. Ron stood staring with wild eyes down at Cain, breathing heavily.

"He was eavesdropping on us," Ron panted, "He heard everything, things he wasn't meant to… there is an Extendable Ear in his pocket."

Hermione's small soft hand landed gently on his shoulder and only then did Ron look away from Cain and into her worried brown eyes.

"He called you a stupid bitch," he said, "No one calls you that."

Her gaze softened, but lost none of its concern.

Jedrek released Ron's arms completely, withdrew his wand, and with a quick flick healed his comrade and cleaned the blood away.

Cain ceased his moaning and pulled his hand away from his face. His nose was clean, but now held a striking resemblance to Albus Dumbledore's. His grey eyes were filled with hatred, and didn't leave Ron's.

"You'll pay for that, Weasley," he spat.

"Fat chance," Jedrek growled, he jumped forward, reached into the pocket of Cain's robes and pulled out the Extendable Ear, "Looks like what he was saying was the truth."

Jedrek scooped Cain's wand up from the floor and pocketed it, along with the Extendable Ear, "You've gone too far this time, Hemler. You've antagonized Mr. Weasley for long enough, and now you are eavesdropping on classified information, and insulting Ms. Granger? I'll see that you're demoted for this. This is not how an Auror acts. We are to act with dignity, and respect, not like children."

"But Weasley punched me! It's against the law to assault an Auror!" Cain shouted, his face contorted with rage.

"I didn't see it," Jedrek replied coldly, "The only person here who wouldn't swear that you simply ran into a door is you."

Cain's jaw dropped and he stared wide eyed at his comrade, stuttering.

Jedrek pulled out his own wand and pointed it at Cain, "The job you were appointed was to protect Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, you have shown yourself to be unfit for that responsibility, and as your superior I hereby relieve you of that duty. Go into our room, and wait there. I will send Wyborn an owl explaining the situation as well as my recommendation for your demotion, if not full termination. Then I will send a Portkey request to the Australian Ministry of Magic for your journey back to London."

Cain's eyes hardened like steel, "And when will I get my wand back?"

"Only after I have received confirmation from both Ministries will you receive your wand," said Jedrek, the point of his own wand still trained on Hemler, "Go into the room. I'll hear no further comment on the subject."

Cain gritted his teeth and made for the door of his room, but before he closed the door behind him he snarled at Ron, "Don't think that you won't pay for this, Weasley; I will see that you do, even if it is the last thing I ever do."

The door clicked closed.

Jedrek pocketed his wand with a sigh, and looked at Ron and Hermione with a sad smile on his lips, "He was a good man, before the war. He's one of the youngest Aurors in the department, but he was a strong fighter and a believer in doing what was right, no matter the cost. I've worked beside him many times. He was a good man," Jedrek's eyes seemed to be staring off into a distant memory, reminding Ron that they were not the only ones who had lived through war, "When they attacked the Ministry, Cain had only been an Auror for a year and a half, but he somehow ended up on the front lines of the fight, with the most seasoned Aurors, I being one of them. I saw him battling one Death Eater just out of the corner of my eye. And that was the last time anyone saw him.

"We had all thought he had died, but then he showed up at the Final Battle and fought with us. He told us that he had been captured when the Ministry was taken, but managed to escape six months afterwards and had been in hiding ever since. He was never the same afterwards, and for some reason has sported a strong dislike for you, Mr. Weasley."

Jedrek shook his head sadly, "But I suppose none of us have really been the same, have we? I will leave you two to it and send those owls. If you need my help, you know where I am."

And with one last polite nod, he was gone.

Hermione and Ron stood together in silence in the corridor for a few long moments before Ron finally spoke: his voice was hoarse from screaming, "What do we tell your parents?"

"The truth," Hermione replied simply, "They've likely heard most of it. I told them to stay put in case there was a duel and I locked the door behind me in case dad decided he'd come for a look anyway."

Silence fell over them again, neither looked at the other.

Ron coughed, "Hermione, I'm not going to apologize, he called you a stupid bitch, he deserv-"

He was cut off abruptly by her lips crashing into his, but before he could react, she pulled away again and looked up into his eyes with determination in her own, "Thank you," she said, "for standing up for me."

Then she poked him roughly in the chest, "But if you ever hit an Auror again, I'll have you know that the Auror Department will be the least of your worries."

"But I-"

She put a finger to his lips, "I don't want you getting into any more trouble, Ron Weasley, and I daresay you have a knack for it…" her expression instantly sobered," I-… I mean it, Ron… don't take any unnecessary risks… alright? I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Hermione, I _am_ going to be an Auror someday soon," Ron pointed out gently, "I think risks come with the job description."

Ron immediately regretted saying it when all the color rushed out of her face and she stepped back, "Oh…" she said, "Yes… of course…" she looked away, but extended her hand to him, "L-let's go finish talking t-to my parents… shall we?"

X

X

Author's note: Awww, short chapter for you. Sorry, but it needed to be this way… hopefully Ron clocking Cain makes up for it though, yeah?

I was laughing to myself recently, just thinking about what I am doing to my poor readers. 42 chapters into a M rated story and still no smut? Blasphemy. Well, to be fair, the main reason the story is rated M is for the violence... but be patient lovely readers who are so dear to my heart, just be patient with me.

I'll do my best to update the next chapter quickly… I wonder how good old George is doing?


	43. Breaking Down That Wall

Warning: This chapter contains SMUT! Yes! I know! It's taken me until chapter 43, but it's finally here! There may be some grammar/spelling mistakes in this chapter. I hastily posted it in my guilt for having kept you waiting for so long, and didn't proofread it as much as I should have.

Disclaimer: If you want to read J.K. Rowling's work, go buy her books, because I am not her and I own nothing of this story. I can only hope that I become half the writer she is.

X

X

"George!" The furious pounding on his front door continued, "Open the bloody door!"

_What do you think the chances are that she'll just leave?_

"George Weasley! If you don't open this door _right now_, I'm going to fucking blast it open!"

"I'm going to say… not likely," Fred replied. It was clear that he found the entire situation quite amusing.

"That's it," came Angelina's voice again, and abruptly the pounding stopped. It was a strangely eerie silence that made George retreat further into him home. He moved just in time to avoid the door that flew in after it was blasted off its hinges.

When the dust finally cleared, Angelina stepped calmly over the threshold and dusted off her robe: as if blasting her way into other's homes was an everyday necessity.

"I warned you," she told a gaping George.

"Gotta love the woman," Fred said, laughing.

George's gaze switched from the door under her feet, to Angelina, and back again, "Bloody hell Angelina, you blasted my door down."

"Obviously," Angelina rolled her eyes and walked towards him, "I gave you plenty of time to open the door. It's your own fault…"

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of something on the table, "George… what is this?"

She pushed past George and bent over _Magical Connections, Natural and Cast: From Birth to the Unbreakable Vow_, and read aloud the passage that George had marked.

"'If twins connected by _Daltera Animi_ are separated by death after the connection has developed thoroughly through adolescence, it has been reported that the surviving twin will hear and communicate with the deceased one in their mind. The deceased twin lives as a ghost in the surviving twin's mind alone, and does so against their will, they can move on only when the living twin lets them go…"

"Go on," George whispered.

Her voice quavered, "Every wizard connected to a deceased sibling through _Daltera Animi_ has duly reported only that they had to 'let go' of their deceased twin in a way that every one of them refused to fully disclose; each gave a different reason, ranging from worry that the spell might not break correctly if others were aware of exactly how to do it instead of finding out on their own, to it simply being far too personal to speak of…"

Angelina spun around and stared at George wildly, "This is why you were talking to yourself earlier, isn't it? Why you ran in here and refused to open the door when I asked why you did?"

George sighed, "Yes."

"Fred… he's alive? In your head?"

"Sort of," he shrugged.

Her gaze softened, "He can hear me then?"

George nodded, dreading what she would say next.

He didn't expect her to clout him heavily on the arm and shout, "Fred, you crazy bastard. Get the hell out of George's head, isn't he mental enough without you hanging about?"

"Ask her if she has any reading comprehension skills," Fred retorted, "Because obviously she didn't understand that I'm here against my will. I'll even have you write up a simple summary for her, if she'd like."

"He says he would leave if he could," George told her.

"You, sir," Fred said, "Are an embarrassment to my comedic genius."

_Sod off._

Angelina laughed suddenly, "He was in your mind when I kissed you, wasn't he? He was in there, watching?"

"Tell her that stiffies are at least twice as difficult to deal with in the afterlife."

George nodded, "He was."

Angelina raised an eyebrow, "Now what did he really say? I'm quite curious, because Fred is not nearly as solemn as you are making him out to be."

He couldn't help but smile then, "He may have mentioned something about how stiffies are a bit more difficult to handle in the afterlife."

She snorted, "Now that sounds more like Fred," she settled down in one of the chairs at the table and slid the book closer to her. She read it silently for a few moments before looking over her shoulder at George, "Well don't stand there like a tosser. We're going to find out everything about this."

He sighed, and started over to the seat next to her when a brilliant idea struck him. George walked up behind her and spun the chair around to face him. It made a loud screeching noise as it turned. The book clattered to the ground and snapped shut: his bookmark fluttered down beside it.

"George, what are you-"

He pressed his lips hungrily to hers in a demanding kiss. In a sense, it was a simple question to her: _are you with me, or aren't you?_

She responded immediately with her hands fisted in his robes: pulling him closer to her in a defiant answer to his question: _to the bloody end._

"Mate, I'm still here you know. I've got to admit that it's a bit awkward to watch you snog her."

George answered his brother simply: _Close your eyes. _

X

X

The night was quiet.

From her position on the sofa, Hermione stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying desperately to reign in her racing thoughts so that she could sleep.

However, she didn't really want to sleep- at least not the way she had been since the war- she knew what nightmares would be lurking there.

When Ron and Hermione had explained what had happened with Cain, her parents had been far more understanding than she had expected. In fact, her father had actually clapped Ron fondly on the back. Hermione recognized it as her father's final acceptance of Ron: it had warmed her heart.

They had gone on to finish their story soon afterwards; in a calm voice, Hermione had told them of when she had masqueraded as Bellatrix Lestrange- something that still chilled her to the bone, their trip through Gringotts, and how they had escaped on the back of a dragon.

When she recounted the Battle of Hogwarts, she had purposefully told the most vague version of events; especially when she told them of what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione was fairly certain that even Ron didn't know precisely what had happened with the horcrux. She hoped to keep it that way.

After Hermione had finally finished with Harry's conversation with Dumbledore's portrait, her mother's eyes were red, her lips quavered, and she said in a voice choked with tears, "I'm so sorry. My little girl… you shouldn't have had to experience… so young… I'm so sorry," She had reached out then and tenderly touched Hermione's cheek. It was a gesture that before would have inspired warmth and comfort, but instead had filled Hermione with an icy horror at the pain she had given her parents.

Her dad, on the other hand, said very little, and stared at his daughter with sad eyes; it had seemed that he was looking for the little girl who would often times stand on his feet and wrap spindly arms around his legs while he gently swayed and spun to whatever played on the radio. The look in his eyes told Hermione what she already knew: that little girl was long gone.

"Hermione?" a voice near her ear whispered. She looked over to find Ron sitting up and staring at her through the dark. When they had given Hermione's parents the only bed, Ron had- true to character- insisted that she take the sofa while he slept on the floor beside it.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"Can't sleep either, eh?" it was more of a statement than a question. She wondered how long he had watched her while she had gazed off into her own thoughts.

"Can't sleep at all," she replied truthfully.

He stared at her quietly for a moment before whispering, "Move over."

Hermione backed up as far as she could into the back cushion of the sofa, leaving only just enough room for Ron. She was just about to suggest that they expand the couch when Ron settled down in front of her. All protests stopped short and died in her throat as the full length of his body pressed against hers. Something stirred within her and before she could stop it, a small noise came unbidden from her lips.

"Oh, sorry, did I hurt you?" Ron began to pull away, but Hermione instinctively reached out and pulled him closer to her.

"No," she said, "No, not at all."

He relaxed and rested his head on her shoulder while wrapping his arms tightly around her, "Do you still have nightmares, Hermione?" he whispered.

"Yes," she replied very quietly, "I think I will for some time… do you?"

"Every night. Of Fred's death, of being trapped in Malfoy Manor, of when you were taken by the werewolves. In most of them, you end up dead."

Hermione shivered and clutched him tighter. How many times had she come so close to losing him? What would she have done if he had died?

"That's why I like sleeping close to you," Ron continued, "When I wake up, I can know you're alright… that sounds barmy, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't sound barmy at all," she whispered back. Hermione inhaled deeply, memorizing the strong scent of him. He was so beautifully alive, "I love you so much, Ron."

"I love you too," he whispered as he dashed gentle kisses on her neck, "So… bloody… much."

He groaned, and his hands fell from the small of her back to her arse. Hermione felt something hard pressed against her thigh. She pressed her legs together in an effort to stop the growing ache between them, but instead it only intensified the feeling of desire within her.

From fourth year (at least, that was when she had been first aware of it) and onward, a tension had been building between them. In certain moments it had been so thick that it could nearly be seen on the air. At first, she had misidentified it as a tension as a result of how often they clashed with each other. Later, she had deduced that it was only because of her unrequited feelings for him. It was only at the very end of sixth year that she had finally realized it for what it was: sexual tension.

The first time she had kissed him had been the first crack in the wall that kept that tension from overcoming them. Since then, they had nearly broken that wall down several times, but something had always stopped them. Hermione's heart quickened when she realized that there was nothing to stop them now.

She reached under the pillow and pulled out her wand. Ron watched her carefully as she placed a locking and silencing charm on the door to the hallway and the bedroom door where her parents slept.

That wall between them cracked again.

Ron's face moved in close. His long, freckled nose brushed against hers. His eyes were dark. His heavy breath smelled of chocolate.

It seemed then that they both knew exactly what was before them. They laid there perhaps only for a few moments but to them it was hours, days, years of waiting. They panted hot breath. Their chests heaved. Their hearts pounded: beating an obscene rhythm that grew louder with every passing moment.

Then, the wall that had been holding them back for so long shattered violently and finally.

Their lips crashed together hungrily, almost primitively. Ron's tongue pushed into her mouth and Hermione eagerly battled it with her own. She heard him growl. It only served to intensify her need for him.

This was not the gentle exploration of each other that they had previously indulged in, but instead a passion fueled blaze: the same fire that had burned beneath them for years, a fire that could not be quenched.

Hermione's hands fisted in Ron's shirt, and she jerked it upward aggressively. She thought little of the mechanics of how to get it off: she only knew that she wanted it off _now_. The thin and well-worn fabric ripped beneath her fingers, but she paid little mind once Ron finally pulled away enough for her to pull it completely off of him. She tossed it to the floor.

She saw a dark scar that contrasted angrily against the pale skin of his shoulder. Hermione couldn't bring herself to look away from it: the evidence of the pain she had caused him, the evidence of her failure.

Then his hands were on her again, and their movements dragged Hermione's mind back into the fray. She touched his smooth chest and slid her hands down to his naval, causing him to shiver. She felt the coarse ginger hair that grew there and moaned softly, she was about to let her hand follow that hair downward when Ron began gently pulling her shirt up, urging her to lift her arms so that he could pull of the offending item. Immediately once it was over her head, his hands flew to the back of her bra and fumbled about for the clasp.

"It clasps in the front," Hermione told him.

He paused for a moment, and then brought his hands back to her chest, "Brilliant," he whispered as he undid the simple clasp and the fabric fell away from her breasts. Hermione chuckled at the awe in his voice, "You should wear ones like these more often, Hermione."

She was about to make a cheeky comment when, without warning, Ron bent down and took one of her nipples into his wet mouth.

"Oh!" Hermione moaned and arched her back, "Oh, Ron…"

Ron pulled away and smiled wickedly, then swiftly pushed Hermione so that she was lying on her back and straddled her.

"Figured we'd have a bit more room, this way," he told her boldly before taking her breast into his mouth again. His tongue swirled expertly around her while his fingers mirrored it on her other breast. She clung to his bare back fiercely, as if he was the only thing keeping her from drowning… and perhaps he was.

He groaned when her fingernails dug into his flesh, and bucked his hips slightly. She loosened her grip on him and murmured a faint apology for the small red marks she had left on his skin, but he merely pulled away slightly and replied huskily, "'S alright. That's bloody sexy."

She chuckled softly, "Is that- oh… is that the only adjective you can use?"

"No," he murmured against her skin, "It's one of many that fit you, like smart, and brilliant, and beautiful, and strong, and… a bit mad- ow!" he exclaimed as she pinched his shoulder, "What was that for?"

Hermione grinned mischievously, "You called me mad."

"Yeah! You're only proving my point, you know."

"I know," she said as she pulled his mouth up to hers again.

As they kissed, Hermione's hands fell again to the waistband of his trousers. Her shaking fingers fumbled uselessly with the knot that kept them on tight, and after a few moments of her unsuccessful attempts, Ron pulled away and smiled.

"What are you trying to do?" he teased.

"You know very well what I'm trying to do," Hermione snapped, "And unless you'd fancy keeping them on, I'd suggest you untie them and take them off like a proper gentleman."

Ron sat up abruptly and gave her a quizzical look, "Hermione… you want me to take off my trousers… like a gentleman?" he snorted when she nodded, "Hermione, I don't think there is any way for me to take my trousers off like a gentleman. I'll take them off, but I'll have you know that there are a lot of things going through my head right now, and none of them are gentlemanly."

Hermione sat up as well, facing him, "What…" she bit her lip nervously, "What thoughts are going through your mind?" she knew the answer, but desperately wanted to hear him say it.

"You're… you're sure you want to know? You won't send birds after me or anything?" he asked, rather nervously.

"I want to know," Hermione replied, her voice huskier than moments before, "No repercussions, I promise."

"Ok…" he said, "But… when I do, you have to tell me what you're thinking, alright?"

"Alright."

He looked at her through the dark space between them for a long moment, then, in almost a whisper, he said, "I want to… touch you... down there…" he peered at her apprehensively, and something in her eyes seemed strengthen his resolve, "And I want to make you feel good… I want to make you feel good."

Hermione shivered in anticipation, goosebumps rose all over her body at the sensation.

Ron was quiet for a few moments more before finally saying, "Bloody hell, Hermione… I want to fuck you."

She flew at him again, unable to hold herself back from him a moment longer. She sucked greedily on his bottom lip, and latched her fingers forcefully in his hair. She felt wild, uninhibited, and positively lustful. She reveled in that only Ron could make her feel this way: it was one of the many reasons that she loved him.

"'Er-my-nee," Ron tried unsuccessfully to detach her from his bottom lip.

"Hmmm?"

Finally, he was able to pull away enough to speak, "Hermione."

She sighed, and met his gaze impatiently, "What?"

He grinned, and even in the dark she could see the red tint on his ears, "You said you were going to tell me what you were thinking."

"Right now," she said, "I'm thinking… that great minds think alike."

"You'll be the death of me," Ron groaned.

"Also," she said, "I'm thinking that if you don't take your trousers off, I might just send those birds after you anyway."

"Only if you do…" Ron said, then he seemed to think better of it and finished hurriedly, "That's if you want to… last night…"

"Last night I was being irrational," she told him quickly, but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes, "It just reminded me of… look, if I take them off myself, then it shouldn't be a problem."

Ron cupped her cheek gently with one hand and tilted her face up to look at him, "Wicked," he said quietly. Hermione understood what he meant, and it meant the world to her: _No matter what happens, I'm with you._

In unison, their hands fumbled with the ties on their trousers, ripping and pulling at them vigorously until the stubborn knots yielded. The clothing was tossed unheeded to the ground.

Very little lay between them now. The skin of their clammy chests slapped sloppily together as they collided once again. Ron's fingers danced gently down her sides, causing her to giggle and squirm away from his hands.

"That will always be funny," he chortled.

But she instead of retorting as she normally would, Hermione moaned and grabbed one of his hands.

"Ron," she gasped as she led his hand down to the spreading warmth between her legs and pressed it against her damp knickers, "Please, Ron."

"Bloody hell," he breathed. He seemed frozen in the moment: his hand remained frozen where she had left it, just barely touching her. That faint touch made her want to scream in her desire.

He pressed against her experimentally, and drew in a sharp breath when her hips rose slightly off the couch in reaction.

"Wow," he whispered, "…alright… okay…" he took a deep breath, "Hermione, I-… I haven't done something like this before, alright? I don't really know…" his ears turned a deep shade of red.

"Ron," she panted, "It's alright… it's alright, just… touch me, please… oh! Mmm, Ronnn."

He had finally delved his hand beneath the cloth of her knickers, and rubbed his fingers against her wet folds. Hermione's nails dug into the flesh on his shoulders as she whimpered softly. He continued moving his hand in experimentation until he found a small bundle of nerves that made her suddenly cry out and jerk her hips.

"Sorry," he muttered, starting to pull his hand away, "Sorry, did that hurt?"

"No!" she exclaimed a bit louder than she intended, "No, no that was… do that again, please."

"Oh… okay… good," his heart pounded violently in his throat as he rubbed the sensitive nerve again with his thumb, and was rewarded with a small moan from Hermione. Her small hands left his shoulders and crept down his body, stopping occasionally when a fierce wave of pleasure slammed through her, and they eventually came to the waistband of his shorts. Before Ron could draw another breath, a soft hand dipped beneath his shorts and gripped him gently.

"Hermione," he hissed as he blindly found her opening and pushed a finger into her.

"Oh!" she cried out and grasped him tighter as she moved her hand along the length of him. He bucked into her hand and groaned.

"You are so… fucking… amazing," he breathed as he pumped his finger faster as he rubbed her clit with small circular movements with his thumb.

"Ron," she panted, "Don't… don't stop," the tension within her grew with every movement, pleasure rippled through her with every breath. Not only because of Ron's actions, but the sudden overwhelming thought of everything he was to her. She loved him. And she loved that he could match her fire with his own. That feeling, combined with the magnificent things he was doing to her, spurred her closer and closer to the edge.

"Wasn't planning on it," he joked, "You ought to stop what you're doing though. Or I'll not last long."

She nodded and pulled her hand away from him, instead grabbing a fistful of the couch cushion beneath her, "Oh… OH! Keep going. Mmmm… Ron!" her eyes snapped closed and her body rocked powerfully as waves of pleasure shot through her. She threw her head back on the couch and shook it wildly back and forth. It was ecstasy. It was the greatest kind of madness.

When her body finally relaxed, Hermione lazily opened her eyes to find that a disastrous curtain of her own hair blocked her vision. She brought a weak hand up to brush it away, and found herself staring up at an awestruck Ron.

"That…" he began, "was the most brilliant thing… I have ever seen."

She chuckled, "What about Quidditch?"

"Fuck Quidditch."

Hermione reached up and pulled his head down closer to hers. Her voice was husky when she said, "I want you."

His grin faded, and he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Positively so."

"Alright," he kissed her tenderly before hooking his fingers around the waistband of her knickers, "Can I?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Thank you," he whispered, and in his own way, telling her everything she needed to hear.

"You're welcome," she said quietly.

He gently kissed his way down her torso and across her naval, then sat back on his heels as he pulled her knickers gently down her smooth legs. He traced the parallel and gagged scars that ran down the sides of her legs from her hips to her knees. He shivered as he tried to push his anger towards the man who created those scars away. This was not a time for anger to overwhelm him.

It was then that he realized that he had been sitting and staring at her for longer than he had intended, and that he still had her knickers in one hand. He hastily got to his feet and kicked his own shorts off. Her eyes stared at his erection through the dark.

"You're beautiful, Ron," she said, "Every part of you."

Ron had always thought quite a little of himself. He thought himself too tall, too lanky, his nose too long, his feet to big, and his face too freckled. Next to brothers like Fred, George, and Bill, he hadn't ever thought himself to be anything of an attractive bloke… but the way Hermione was looking at him made him feel like the sexiest man on the face of the earth. Merlin, he loved her.

"I love you, Hermione," he told her, staring down in awe of her lying naked before him: only him.

She pulled her wand out from underneath the pillow again, pointed it at herself, and murmured a quiet spell. She set her wand down and stretched her arms out, "I love you, too. Now come here."

He swallowed nervously, nodded, and gradually got onto the couch to hover over her. She spread her shaking legs and allowed him to settle between them. Time seemed to slow to a stop.

"Ready?" Ron asked. _Please say yes, please say yes, oh please say yes,_ he thought.

She nodded, "Yeah… it is going to hurt… so go slow, if you can."

"I'll do whatever you want me to do," he told her.

"I know. Thank you. Come on, I… I want you inside me."

Ron groaned, and without any further comment, gripped himself and slowly guided himself into her.

Hermione whimpered quietly as he moved slowly into her, and gripped onto his shoulders tightly, but said nothing.

"Alrigh' 'ermione?" he grunted.

She nodded and urged him to continue by pressing his bum slightly with her heels.

He pushed until he was fully sheathed inside her. He groaned at the warmth and smoothness of her; the very thought that he was inside her made him nearly cum at that very moment. Hermione's nails dug deeply into his back so hard that he thought she might draw blood. He felt sickened at the thought of the pain he was causing her.

"Ok," she choked out, "You can move now, slowly."

_Thank Merlin,_ he thought, moaning in relief, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

He lifted his hips gently and pushed back into her, groaning several slurred words like: Hermione, love, and beautiful. He rested his forehead against hers and kissed her lips chastely.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, "It's getting better. Just let go, Ron, don't worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you," he said, thrusting just a bit faster. Her hips began rising to meet him, taking all of him deep inside her with every slow thrust.

"Just let go," she whispered again. She kissed the tip of his long nose as his breath began to quicken.

Despite his powerful desire to save her from as much pain as possible, he quickened his pace even more. He was close, lost in the warmth and love of Hermione.

"Er-my-neeeee," he groaned finally as she brought him over the edge with her comforting whispers in his ear.

"Oh, Ron," she told him as he collapsed, exhausted and spent, on top of her, "I love you so much."

X

X

Author's note: Wow. Holy fizzucking shit. I just want you all to know that that was the most difficult thing I have ever written. That is my excuse for how long it took to post this chapter. So many people on this site make writing smut look so easy: I just learned, quite painfully, that writing something like that is NOT easy in the slightest. Well… it might be easy for you guys, but not so much for me. Damn, that was hard. Never in my life have I had such difficulty writing something.

Anyway, I hope you, my lovely readers and reviewers, liked this chapter.


	44. What's Real

Author's Note: I'm baaaaack! I am so sorry, dear readers, that I have been away for so long. College planning, moving, high school, my mom's engagement and move, and other such crazy things have prevented me from writing. But I am here again, and hopefully I can keep myself from disappearing from the site for a long period of time like that again. I've missed you all.

Disclaimer: It has been a while since I've last posted, but I still don't own Harry Potter.

X

X

Ron woke with a large grin on his face. His sleep had been deep and dreamless, the warmth of Hermione beside him had made him more comfortable than he ever remembered being. The beautiful smell of eggs and bacon filled the air, and brought him slowly out of his blissful slumber.

He was alone on the couch, Hermione no longer in his arms. Though he couldn't see her, he could hear her quiet voice, as well as the voice of her mother.

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger said, "You're sure you're alright? You seem… very jolly this morning."

"I'm fine, mum, Hermione replied cheerfully; more cheerful, in fact, than Ron had ever heard her, "Never better, actually."

"And why is that?" Mrs. Granger asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I don't know, "Hermione replied, "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Hermione, dear, it's pouring rain outside."

"Well… yes… I suppose so, but I rather like the rain."

Ron nearly groaned aloud; she might as well have said, "Oh, and by the way, I shagged Ron last night, just thought you ought to know."

There was a small pause; the only sound was the small sizzling of bacon on the stove.

"Are you using protection?"

"Mum!" Ron cringed; her squeaky protest was just as good as a confession.

"Are you?"

"… y-yes, we are."

Another brief pause.

"Good, and don't let your father know. With how smiley you've been this morning, you're lucky he is still asleep, he would have seen through you in a second."

"Mum-"

"Hermione, you are an adult in the magical world as well as ours. I trust your judgment, as I always have. That's why I understand what you did to your father and I, even though it still pains me… but enough of that, I have a question that I'd like to ask you before the men wake up."

"…what is it?" Hermione asked apprehensively.

Mrs. Granger's voice quavered as she continued, "You were t-tortured… extensively… I wish I could kill the woman who did that to you with my bare hands; it's too bad that Mrs. Weasley beat me to it. But my question it… have you seen someone about it, Hermione?"

Taken aback, Hermione replied, "What… what do you mean?"

"Honey, I heard you when you told us about what happened to you. As soon as you started talking about it you… you scared me, Hermione. You've been through a war, and at such a young age. No one comes out of something like that completely scot-free, there's terrible emotional trauma, as I'm sure you well know. Have you seen someone? A psychologist? Do they have psychologists in the magical world?"

"Y-yes," Hermione stammered, "There are psychologists… I haven't seen one though."

"Why not?"

"I-… I don't need to see one, mum. I can handle myself just fine."

Mrs. Granger sighed, "You and your father are too much alike. You both try to solve everything for everyone and then neglect yourselves."

"I-"

"And the both of you are too stubborn to realize when you need help. I don't think Ron knows what he's signed up for."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, sounding hurt.

"He'll have to accept, like I did with your father, that patience is mandatory: that you'll only ever open up when you choose to. Even when you were a little girl you were loud and open about what you thought of other people's actions, or outside issues, but when it comes to any conflict inside of you, you are positively clueless," her voice softened, "Honey, that boy loves you more than I think you realize."

"I know he does," Hermione said quietly, "I love him, too," Ron couldn't help but smile.

"I am so happy for you. He wants to be there for you, I can tell-"

In the other room, the faint squeak of straining bed springs could be heard.

"Your father is up now… just… think about what I said okay? About getting help? I-… I'm so worried about you. We both are."

"Alright, mum. I love you and… I'm… s-so sorry f-or sending you aw-away." Hermione sniffed.

"Oh, sweetheart… come here," Mrs. Granger whispered. Small footsteps followed, and Ron assumed by the ensuing silence that she had pulled her daughter into her arms.

Ron snapped his eyes closed and sighed quietly. He suddenly felt like a fool. He hadn't thought before that maybe he wouldn't be enough for her; that the reason she didn't talk to him about things that bothered her could be because he couldn't give her the help she needed. He knew about Mind-Healers, his mum had even started seeing one, as his dad had told him in secret, but the idea of Hermione seeing one seemed… an alien concept. Hermione always took care of everyone else; no one ever took care of her.

Ron wanted to be the exception to the rule.

After deciding that it was about time that he 'woke up', he stretched his arms out and feigned a yawn before sitting up. He looked over the couch with sleepy eyes and said, "Morning," as if he hadn't just overheard all that they had said.

Mrs. Granger gave her daughter one last hug before pulling away and returning to the stove, "Good morning, Ron," she smiled brightly at him, "Hungry?"

"Starved," he said as he staggered to his feet.

"There's a shocker," Hermione chuckled and sat down at the table, "Come sit down, will you?"

The bedroom door opened and Mr. Granger staggered out. His eyes were slightly red from a lack of sleep.

"Do I smell bacon?" he asked groggily.

"Yes, it's about finished," Mrs. Granger replied gently, "Dear did you sleep at all?"

"Very little," he replied as he sat heavily down in the chair beside Ron, "When will we be going back home? I haven't slept well in months, and I'd like to finally lie in my own bed and in my own house."

Ron reached over under the table and gently took Hermione's hand in his. She clutched his hand tightly and gave him a small grateful smile.

"The Auror came in a little while earlier, when you were all still asleep," Mrs. Granger said, "he said that he's arranged for us to take a plane back in about two hours. We'll be leaving here as soon as we've finished eating. And he said that Ron and Hermione will be taking some sort of key back to London after we leave for the airport?"

"A portkey," Hermione said, "It transports whoever is touching it instantly to somewhere else."

"Why can't we just use this portkey?" Mr. Grangers asked as he picked idly at the eggs on his plate.

"You're not authorized to," Ron said, "Muggles aren't allowed to use portkeys unless it's an emergency."

"Ah."

A shallow silence engulfed them as they ate. Hermione shifted uncomfortable in her seat. Like her father, she left her breakfast untouched. In a daze, she watched her mother wash a butter knife in the sink. The dim light above glinted off the blade in an almost sinister way. In the falling water, the blade became longer, sharper. The hand holding it paled to a sickly grey color; and long, yellowed nails protruded from the tips of the boney fingers.

"Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Had it all been some sort of dream? How was it that she was here again, on the cold floor of Malfoy Manor? Had that beautiful world been created in her tortured mind as some sort of escape? Had only a few moments passed?

"Hermione!" she could still hear Ron's frantic voice coming from the cellar. Her heart ached for him, for the chance to be able to tell him how much she cared for him: to kiss him just once before she died.

"Hermione!"

"Ron," she whispered.

"Hermione!"

She would never see him again, but perhaps she could give him and Harry a chance to escape. She could lie to Bellatrix, she could give them the chance to save the world as she had dreamed it.

"Hermione!" suddenly something grabbed her arm and jolted her back to the present, to reality. She found herself sitting in the same seat as she had been before, staring into Ron's worried blue eyes, Her parents were watching her, too, equally worried. Ron's hand was on her arm, and she was gripping the table so tightly that her knuckles were a ghostly white.

"Sorry," she murmured as she released the table, "I sort of spaced out there for a moment," she reached up and touched Ron's hand to assure herself that this was real. _What happened is in the past_, she told herself, _This is real, this is what is real._ Even so, she couldn't stop her hands from shaking.

"A moment?" the harshness of Ron's voice betrayed his fear, "Bloody hell, Hermione, you've been out of it for a few minutes. You wouldn't respond to any of us… I was just about to go run to get Jedrek. What in the hell happened?"

Hermione shrugged and got to her feet, "It's nothing."

Mr. Granger stood up as well, "Hermione-"

Just then, the door swung hastily open and Jedrek strode through with a small lampshade in hand, "Good morning," he said, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, there is a car waiting for you just outside, are you ready to go?"

"Erm… yes, we are, but I need to talk to Hermione alone for a moment," Mr. Granger said, "Is there enough time?"

Jedrek nodded, "Sure, the portkey doesn't leave for another ten minutes, so you have time."

Mr. Granger nodded, "Thank you," then led Hermione out into the hallway and closed the door behind them.

"Dad, I don't want-"

"That's not what I want to talk about," he said, "Though I'll let your mother think that that's what we are talking about. I'm worried about you, but I know that you aren't stupid, you'll do what you need to, you don't need anyone to force you to talk about things like… that."

Hermione smiled, "Thanks, dad."

"What I want to know is what you plan on doing next."

"What do you mean?"

He reached over and gripped her shoulders, his face was drawn and pale, with deep shadows under his eyes, but even so, his eyes were deep and caring, "When we get home, are you going to be there?"

"I-… Dad…" she began.

"You don't need to feel obligated to live with us," he told her, "I know that you have a life far different than ours, in your world, with the Weasleys and Harry and all of your other friends. I'm not asking you to leave that. I'm not even asking you to live with us. I just… I want to meet you."

"W-what?"

"Hermione, you have grown and changed so much since you first went to Hogwarts… I'd give anything in the world to have been a part of it. When you haven't been at school, you've been at the Weasley's. Every year you have come back stronger, smarter, and more mature, only to leave again. Now you've been through a war, and your mother and I don't really know who you are. So, even if you remain living at the Weasley's, which I would understand, can you just promise me that you won't forget to visit us once and a while?"

Hermione smiled and hugged him tightly, "I promise, Dad, I will. I'll come and visit as often as I can this summer, and during the holidays when I've started school."

He pulled away, an incredulous look on his face, "You're going back to Hogwarts? Even after everything that has happened to you?"

She nodded, "Yes. I'd like to finish my education."

Mr. Granger smiled brightly, "That's my daughter."

X

X

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the shortness of this chapter, especially after such a long wait. However, I'm going to do my best to post another one within a few days.


	45. What's Changed

Disclaimer: Yep, still don't own Harry Potter.

X

X

"Neville Longbottom," a deep booming voice forced Neville to look up from his paperwork. In front of his small desk, the Head of the Auror Department, Abbas Wyborn, stood beaming down at him. Until now, he had never personally met the Head Auror, the entire Department had been so busy that he hadn't really had a chance to meet anyone.

Neville got to his feet hastily, and, out of habit, checked with one hand to make sure the Sword of Gryffindor was secure in its scabbard, "Mr. Wyborn, sir."

Wyborn smiled jovially and offered his hand, Neville reached over his desk and shook it.

"Ah, you've got a nice arm on you, boy," Wyborn chuckled, "Though I wouldn't expect anything less from the man who bears that sword," he gestured to the sword at Neville's hip, "What a great honor it must be to carry it."

Neville nodded, "I am very grateful that Harry gave it to me."

Wyborn shook his head, "You pulled it out of the Sorting Hat, and you used it to lop the head off of that snake. I was there, boy, I saw. Mr. Potter didn't bestow the honor on you, you bestowed it on yourself. Never forget that out of everyone in that crowd, filled with older and more experienced men and women, even combat-trained Aurors, you alone were the one to stand up to You-Know-Who when we thought Mr. Potter was dead. You are a better man than I."

Neville stood flabbergasted for a moment, not believing that the Head of the Auror Department was saying this to him. Finally he said the only thing that he could think of to say, "T-thank you, sir."

Wyborn smiled broadly, "You're welcome, my boy; however, that is not why I am here. I just recently had to demote Mr. Hemler from Auror to a guard at Azkaban. I'd like you to take on the cases he was working on. They are higher profile cases than the ones you've been working on. What do you say?"

Neville gaped at him, his eyes wide, "W-what do I say? Y-yes, sir! I would be honored, absolutely honored-"

The Head of the Auror Department smiled and clapped Neville soundly on the shoulder, "Good on you, boy. You can take his desk as well, if you'd like. I daresay it is quite a bit bigger than this little corner cubical we have you shoved in."

Neville nodded fervently, a goofy grin plastered on his face, "Yes, sir. Absolutely. Thank you very much, sir."

"You've earned it boy," Wyborn said, "I'm sorry to cut this meeting short, Mr. Longbottom, but I do have engagements elsewhere, so I'll let you get to it. Keep up the good work."

"Yes, sir," Neville said, but the Auror had already gone. Neville sighed and sat heavily down in his seat. Only two short years ago, he never would have dreamed that this is where he would be: a war-hero, an Auror, already promoted, and carrying the Sword of Gryffindor. He was somebody… the significance of that struck him harder than it ever had before.

He leaned back in his chair and looked at his desk. There was an assortment of cards that he kept there, most of them from complete strangers who had taken the time to write to him, to thank him for the part he had played. He had never had any aspirations to be famous, but it was… nice, to finally have some attention. Tenderly, he picked up a particularly tattered card: worn from being handled over and over again, open and closed multiple times, and carried numerous places.

On the inside of the simple card were very few words written in golden ink.

_I am proud of you. –Gran_

Neville smiled and tucked the card into a pocket in his robes, right next to the gum wrapper he never went anywhere without. He wondered, not for the first time, what his parents would say to him if they were in their right minds. Would they have been proud of him his entire life, or would they have been like Gran: only ever showing favor when he did something spectacular? He thought that maybe they would have always been proud of him, always loved him, no matter what he did. What a life that would have been. Perhaps he would have done better in school, been less nervous around his peers; maybe he would have been confident his entire life.

But then, he might have never befriended Harry, Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Ginny. He might have never joined the D.A. or been a part of the end to Voldemort. Maybe he would have never met Hannah Abbot.

No, as much as he wished to have his parents, he didn't regret what had happened in his life. The bad days had been more than worth it to experience the good ones.

With a deep breath he stood up again and began collecting his paper work, as well as emptying the drawers of his desk. He methodically piled all of it into a single box and once the entire desk was clear of everything, he used his wand to levitate it and made his way over to his new desk, the one so recently vacated by an Auror he had never met before.

X

X

Hermione and Ron apparated into the garden of the Burrow with a small pop. It had taken an hour to finally leave the Ministry; after they had arrive not only had they had to file reports, but they had ran into Neville on their way out, and he had gone on excitedly for at least fifteen minutes about how he had been promoted within the Auror office, though Ron had thought the discussion was worth it to be able to hear that Hemler had been demoted: to being an Azkaban guard no less.

The sky was dark, much to Ron's confusion. It took him a moment to remember the gigantic time difference between London and Australia. Everyone here was likely asleep.

"Shall we go in then?" Hermione asked him.

"No," he said. Still holding her hand from their apparition, Ron led her over to the broom shed.

"Ron, what are you doing?" she asked as he guided her into the shed and closed the door behind them.

"Hold on," he told her. He finally let go of her hand and put a silencing charm on the door, then took the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicked it so that a little ball of light hovered over them. Finally, after taking a deep breath, he turned to her and said, "Tell me what happened."

"What?" by the look on her face, Ron could tell that talking was not what Hermione had expected him to do.

"At breakfast. What the hell happened?"

"I told you, it was nothing. I was just tired, is all." She replied, but refused to meet his eyes.

Ron rubbed his temples in frustration, "Hermione, please don't lie to me. Haven't we spent enough bloody years hiding things from each other? You promised to me… you _promised_, Hermione, that you would talk to me when something was wrong, instead of pretending that everything is fine," he felt the familiar anger trying to rise up within him, but with little effort he was able to force it down.

She finally looked up at him, her brown eyes seemed old and tired, but within them there was still that fire he loved, "Ron, I don't think you understand how hard that is."

He ran his hand back through his hair, "What's so difficult about it? You just talk!"

"It's easy for you, maybe," she said, "You grew up in a large family, you know how to talk. You're all open and feeling. But me… _I_ don't even know what I'm feeling, much less how to put it into words."

He stared intently at her, "Give it a go."

She smiled grimly and shook her head, "I-… well earlier… I… Ron can we just do this later? I need some time to collect my thoughts."

"No, come on, Hermione, do this now. You think too much sometimes when you need to just feel, you know? I don't care if I sound daft, it's the bloody truth."

"Fine!" she said, adopting the voice she often did when she was fiercely angry, "You want to know how I feel? I feel confused, and scared, and I don't know how to fix it! Alright? I don't know how to fix myself, I'm broken somehow, and I know that I am being completely irrational but I can't seem to stop. And I hate it, Ron! Oh, how I hate it! I hate the times when I am so damned emotional that I can't even conjure a rational thought. I close my eyes for a second and all I can see is Hogwarts crumbling, people dying, or _her_ standing over me. I tell myself constantly that it's all over, that _this_ is what's real, that we made it, that we're _alive._ But still it never stops, Ron."

She gripped onto the front of his robes with all her might, and Ron could feel her shaking. Her brown eyes were wide and fearful, "The doubt doesn't stop, Ron. Sometimes I fear that I'll wake up, and find you gone. Find that you were never there. Find myself staring up at the ceiling of that damned tent and realize that it's not over, that it's never going to be over," she was openly crying now, tears streamed wildly down her cheeks. She tried to say more, but the words caught in her throat, so instead she laid her face against Ron's shoulder and let the sobs rack her body.

He stood there with her for a long while, rubbing her back gently and letting her cry. Finally, when her cries quieted, he spoke softly, "I can't pretend that the same thing happens to me, Hermione. It doesn't; not really anyway. It's different. I know that I've told you before, but I don't know if you really understand the extent of it. Any small thing at all will just… get me into a rage, Hermione. When I was packing to go to Australia, I couldn't find the match to a sock I had. I think I looked for about a minute before I just… exploded. I tore my poster off the wall, I knocked my nightstand over, and I even set my luggage on fire, all because I couldn't find one damn sock. I'm angry at the world, Hermione, for letting this happen to us."

She merely nodded into his shoulder, and after a few moments mumbled something incoherent.

"What's that?"

"I said," she told him, pulling away, "That I have no idea how you can do that so easily."

"Do what?"

"Just… say all that? It seems to come so easily to you."

"It does… come easily, I mean… when I'm talking to you," Ron felt his ears turn scarlet.

"R-really?"

"Yeah," he said, "Why is it so hard for you? I'm not going to laugh at you or anything, Hermione; we went through the same war."

Hermione let go of him to wipe her eyes, and in doing so successfully turned her body in the small broom shed so that she wouldn't have to face him. She feigned interest in some old broom handle polish as she talked, "I know you wouldn't laugh. You did go through the same war, that's why it's just so ridiculous… it's so ridiculous what I'm feeling, Ron."

"You keep saying that, Hermione. That doesn't make it true."

"But it is," she snapped, "It is, Ron. It makes me weak… pitiful really. I can't go through a proper day without being reminded terribly of something. This morning, when Mum was washing a butter knife, a simple butter knife, and I was back there again. Back under Bellatrix Lestrange's knife, and thinking all of this was some sort of beautiful dream. I didn't have any control over it, none at all. I never do."

Ron put a hand on her shoulder, "You mean to say that it's happened before?"

"Yes," she replied quietly, "though never as bad as it was this morning. More often than not, there is just a moment in time… as long as it takes to takes to blink your eye…" she paused for a moment, turning a broomstick slowly in its stand, "and then the moment is gone again."

"Hermione… you need to talk to someone about this, someone who would know how to help-"

"No," she cut across him, "No, I don't. I've been able to solve bigger problems than this before. I can get through it, alright?" she finally faced him again, her eyes determined, "I can, and I _will_ figure it out. I've been reading a lot lately, and I'll be able to fix it… fix myself. I'll be strong again."

"Hermione," Ron said, exasperated, "You are the strongest person I have ever met. You even give Harry a run for his money and he's the bloody 'Chosen One'. You don't need to be strong all of the time. You don't need to fix bloody _everything_, okay? You're one person; not even you can do all of that."

"You don't-"

"No!" Ron shouted; he was nearly at his breaking point, "You don't understand, do you? _I _can't go on pretending that nothing is wrong. I can't go on knowing that you are facing all of this, and I sure as hell can't let you face all of it alone. If you were in my place, would you let me deal with all of this on my own?"

"Ron-"

"Would you, Hermione?"

"…no… I don't think I would."

"Then how could you expect me to? I love you so much, Hermione. All I want to do is help, just like how you help me."

She didn't say anything, just stared at him with a strange look in her eyes.

"Look… if you won't see someone who knows what the bloody hell to do in this situation. Will you at least talk to me? Then we can both go through this confusing mess together, eh?"

Finally, a small smile appeared on her lips and she said in almost a whisper, "You are so… perfect.

He blushed and scratched the back of his neck, "I wouldn't say that."

"I would. Ron… you've changed so much… you've grown into a beautiful man," she touched his hair, brushing it backwards with the lightest touch of her hand that made him shiver, "Sometimes I still can't believe that I fell in love with my best friend."

"What's Harry have to do with it?"

She shoved his shoulder playfully, "Now don't you go there again."

Ron chuckled softly and pulled her in close again, "Don't think that I've forgotten what we were talking about, just because you tried to distract me by talking about my limitless perfections."

"I don't remember saying the word limitless, Ron."

"Shhhh, of course you did. Now what do you say, are we going to start going through this together now, or am I going to have to keep pestering you about it until you eventually give in? Either way, I'm winning this one."

After a moment or two of silence, Hermione groaned, "Alright, I'll… I'll try. For you. But only if you promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"When we go up to your room, you'll completely ignore it and never make a comment if Harry happens to be in Ginny's room instead of yours."

"Oi, that's a lot to ask from me, Hermione."

"That's the deal, Weasley, take it or leave it."

Ron smiled and growled, "Using my last name now are you? That's not even fair… fine, it's a deal… Granger."

And as they walked back to the house in the dark together, Ron fully realized that there was no one else he'd rather spend the rest of his life with… even if she was a bit mental, luckily, he was a little mental too.


	46. Feeding Hate

Author's Note: Hey, I'm back... again. I've got a longer note at the end of the chapter but I'd thought I'd let you all know that I've got a tumblr! Woohoo! I actually don't use it too often, but perhaps I'll start using it to give updates on Rennervate an other such things. I reblog Harry Potter and lots of Doctor Who when I am on, so hit me up, if you'd like. I haven't really figured out how it works yet. My tumblr name is my penname: karissaakawriter.

Disclaimer: I really don't own Harry Potter, in case you were wondering.

X

X

Harry jolted awake, drenched in sweat and shaking. Would the nightmares ever end? Would Voldemort ever completely leave his mind? If anything, the nightmares had gotten worse within the last two weeks: more frequent. He just wanted some peace.

Next to him, Ginny was still fast asleep, her long red hair spread wildly around her head like fire. Good, that meant he hadn't been talking in his sleep this time.

After pulling his wand out from underneath the pillow, Harry slowly got up from the bed and crept across the softly squeaking floorboards. Above him, the Burrow itself groaned and sighed as it did constantly. Harry often wondered if the house was alive: fondly watching over its occupants like an ancient mother. He felt a strong fondness for the house that had remained with him since he had first seen it when before second year. It was the home he had always wanted, with the family he had not even dared to dream of.

A broken family, still. And it was broken because of him, because he had befriended their son. If he hadn't come into their lives, they could have been happy, whole. No matter what any of them said, Harry would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life. Harry closed the door quietly behind him.

A beam of light suddenly spread across the floor, sending the worn hardwood- with its wide variety of nicks, gouges, and even faint scorch marks from different outbursts of uncontrolled magic- into sharp contrast. Harry glanced out the living room window to see only the faintest hint of daylight's shy approach in the distant sky. He furrowed his brow and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose: he was often awake this early, but he usually had to wait a few hours until anyone else awoke.

His hand slipped into his pocket and grasped his wand, ready to attack or defend if need be. Could someone have broken in? Betrayed them? As silently as he could, crouched with his wand at the ready, Harry made his way towards the illuminated kitchen doorway. He was just a moment away from springing out into sight when a voice whispered out to him, "You'll have to better than that to sneak up on me, mate."

Harry relaxed, but only slightly, and stepped into the kitchen. Ron was sitting on the table with a slightly amused look on his face. His long legs swung idly back and forth, back and forth, as if he had been sitting there for quite some time.

Harry didn't lower his wand.

Ron sighed, "The night before we left to break into the Ministry, I told you to swear that you would get Hermione out alive, even if it meant leaving me behind."

"And what did I say?"

"That you were going to get us all out no matter what the cost. You just wouldn't swear to it. Why the hell didn't you just say you would, anyway?"

"I didn't tell you then, but… Hermione had come to me just hours before, she thought you would say something like that. So she told me that if I even thought about promising something like that to you, she'd hex me something terrible."

Ron shook his head in disbelief, "How is that bloody woman always three steps ahead of me?"

Harry nodded and tucked his wand away again with a faint smile, "She's Hermione. Wouldn't you be worried if she wasn't?"

With a quick push, Ron slid off the table and swung open a cupboard, "Yeah, I suppose I would…"

A far off look appeared in Ron's eyes and made Harry wonder if something had happened between his two best friends.

"So, erm… what are you doing here anyway?" Harry asked. He half expected to hear the Hermione had thrown him out of Australia for one reason or another.

"We just found Hermione's parents two days ago… or yesterday… this time difference thing is confusing as hell," Ron explained as he closed the cupboard, empty handed, "And we apparated here last night."

Harry nodded, "Her parents are alright, yeah? She fixed their memories, didn't she?"

"Yeah, 'course she did. They were actually in the lobby of the inn we were staying at. Turns out that they were placed under some kind of… web spell… that led them there."

"Web spell?"

Ron waved his question off, "Hermione will probably explain it to you later. Want to know who placed it on them? Bloody Malfoy. He was in the lobby too, but he was actually taking the spell off of them. Said that You-Kn… Voldemort 'made him do it' or some rubbish like that."

"Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously, "Honestly? Why would he help them?"

"Search me," Ron shrugged, "Probably to keep his arse out of Azkaban, since he barely skated by the first time. I tackled him good though. Right to the ground. Was going to beat the living hell out of him when I thought he had hurt her parents."

The look of fire in Ron's eyes prompted Harry to ask, "How is she? Hermione?"

"Fine," he replied a bit too quickly, and after a few short moments of Harry's questioning look, he sighed, "Not really, though. Not fine at all… though I suppose none of us are really," he scratched the back of his neck nervously, "It's hit her hard Harry, and I don't really know what to do for her. I'm supposed to help her, you know?"

Harry felt another painful stab of guilt. He had brought his two best friends through this. If it hadn't been for him, Hermione would have spent the last year safely in hiding with her parents, and Ron would have done the same with his own family. But, he reminded himself, if it hadn't been for either of them, he would have been dead a long time ago, and Voldemort would still be alive and thriving.

He would have been nothing without them: dead, in first year, with never a chance to begin the fight.

"Yeah," he sighed as he sat across from Ron on the kitchen counter, "Yeah, I know… I know…"

A companionable silence fell over them: neither needed to say a word. Ron leaned his head back against the cabinet and closed his eyes. Harry drummed his fingers idly on the countertop and for some reason found himself more content than he had been in quite a long time. Ever since the war has ended, the two of them had both been quick to rush into the arms of their girlfriends, and hesitant to look anywhere else afterwards. Harry felt immense relief in just being in his best mate's presence, he had forgotten how comforting it was to just hang out with Ron: the only person in his life that who didn't give him the feeling that he was _expected_ and _needed_ to be more than he was. With Ron, from the very beginning, he could be _just Harry._

X

X

The corridor was long, dark, and unbearably damp. As Cain passed the cells, the light from his wand illuminated the dirty and forlorn faces of the occupants: witches and wizards forsaken by their own world for their crimes against it. They stared out at him with hate in their eyes, they were finally able to feel hate, instead of just fear, now that the Dementors had gone. Occasionally, Cain recognized someone he had put there in his days as an Auror.

Now, instead of the position he had worked his entire life to achieve, he was down in the dark, walking up and down, up and down the long, long corridor: doing the job of a Dementor, doing the duty of the soulless.

It was all because of Ron Weasley.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug painfully into his palm. Weasley disgusted him, angered him to his very core. He swore to himself quietly, as he had hundreds of times in the dark prison, that he would exact revenge upon Ron, by any means necessary. He wanted with all of his heart to take all that Ronald Weasley loved, all that he held dear, and make him watch as he crushed it all before him.

His hatred had consumed him, grew like a wild fire, with every passing mention or thought of Weasley, and his very presence had been like gasoline to the fires of Cain's wrath. Now that he had lost his career- one he love dearly- because of him, his rage was unstoppable, violent, and lethal.

His sharp, cold footsteps shot through the dark like gun blasts, riddling the silence with bullet wounds. His anger brought uncalled magic up from within him and threatened to let it boil out of control. This wasn't the first time his magic threatened to run away from him, in fact, it was old practice by now. He froze in his tracks and inhaled deeply, then gripped his hand tightly in both hands. Careful not to do so too quickly, and thus lose control, he let the magic slowly seep from his body into his wand.

The light that emanated from it intensified so fiercely that in his peripheral vision Cain could see the individual cracks on the walls at the back of the cells. The spell soon faded back down to its normal strength, but not before Cain saw a dark shape rush from the back of the cell to his right to the limits of the bars.

Cain stepped cautiously towards the cell, just close enough for the light of his now dimmer wand to cast across the occupant's face.

It was young man, hardly twenty, whose face was pressed close against the bars. Dark brown hair was shaggy and unkempt on his head, his face was dirty and smudged from the filth of the cell, but-despite his disheveled appearance and youth- he struck a rather imposing impression, perhaps it was because of how cold his ice-blue eyes were as they bore into Cain. His hands clenched the bars tightly as he watched Cain step closer: a mad smile spread across his face. Cain wanted nothing more to step closer, and at the same time run far, far away.

"It's you," the man whispered, delighted. He reached out of his cell as to touch him, "It's you! The one who escaped."

"What are you talking about?" Cain asked, nervous for reasons he could not explain.

The man shook his head, "Never mind that, you are Cain aren't you? Cain Hemler? Auror?"

Cain nodded, "Former Auror, but yes, I'm Cain Hemler. What is it to you? Who are you?" Cain couldn't banish the anxious feeling he felt around the prisoner, nor could he explain the draw he had towards him.

"My name is Caesar McFarlin," the man said with another slightly mad grin, "Death Eater."

Cain snorted and pointed to Caesar's arm, "I don't see any Dark Mark there boy, you were one of the ones who joined up after the battle at Hogwarts, eh? They call your lot The Imitation Eaters, The Child's Crusade, oh and…" the cutting look in Caesar's eyes stopped Cain cold.

"We are the sons and the daughters of the Fallen," he said in a voice of ice and stone, "Yes, we are young, we bear no mark of honor, but we fight for what is right, for the entire wizarding world. To cleanse the world of the filth of those born without magic, to finish what our noble leader sought to do. For the greater good."

The conviction with which the boy spoke of genocide sent a chill down Cain's spine, but he remained riveted.

Caesar smirked, "But first, we must rid ourselves of those who would stand in our way… tell me, Cain Hemler, Former Auror, is there someone you hate above anyone else in the world?"

"Ron Weasley," Cain spat out without a second thought. He surprised himself with how quickly he had told this Azkaban prisoner this.

Caesar clapped gleefuly, "Ron Weasely! You were the one paired with Ron Weasely! This is excellent! Absolutely brilliant! Hey… where are you going?" he asked when he noticed that Cain had started backing away from the cell, "Don't you want revenge against him? I could help! It would be such beautiful, excellent revenge, Cain Hemler," his blue eyes were wild with lunacy.

Cain's head screamed viciously, _Yes! Except his help! Do it!_

But something, possibly the Auror that still remained strong within his heart, made Cain shake his head and say, "I don't associate with Death Eaters," and without another word he continued down the corridor.

Behind him, for minutes after he left, Cain could still here Caesar's echoing voice, "You'll be back! You'll be back, Cain Hemler! And I'll be waiting!" along with an occasional violent shake of prison bars.

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Author's Note: Sorry again for the delay everyone. I'm graduating next week and I am moving to an apartment closer to my university next month, so with work and other such things I am likely to be on and off of here like I have been. I'll try to keep constant, but I'm afraid that I can't really make that promise. However, I will promise you that I won't abandon this story. It will be finished, I'll wrap it all nice and tidy with all questions answered like I promised… it just may take longer than expected. No worries though, we still have quite a few chapters left to go.

Anyhow, there are two points I'd like to make with this chapter: The first being that I miss Harry. I really do. I'm a Hermione/Ron shipper, and those are the only types of ships I tend to read in the Harry Potter fanfiction world, but I find that I really do miss Harry Potter. We went through seven books with him, but I constantly find that he is put aside as insignificant in many Hermione/Ron fics, like they don't care for him as much as they use to. And that bothers me a bit, because the _friendship_ between the three of them I often find more beautiful than any relationship that sprung from it. I realize I probably seem to leave Harry out a bit, too (though I do my best not to), so I'd thought I'd highlight his friendship with Ron a bit here.

Second point: I freaking love writing Cain. And Caesar, too. There's not really a point here, actually, I just wanted to say that. Their hatred goes so deep that it is absolutely delicious to write them. That is all.

Until the next chapter.


	47. A Warning

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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"Ron, no, you know I hate flying," Hermione said, backing away from his outstretched hand.

Ron chuckled and leaned gently on his hovering broomstick, "That's because you've never flown without your life or someone else's life being at stake. There was first year, when you were first learning. Then third year you had to fly on Buckbeak to save Sirius. Fifth year you flew by thestral to the Ministry of Magic. Last year you flew by thestral again as Harry's double. And then that bloody dragon out of Gringotts. You've never flown just for the fun of it Hermione!"

She crossed her arms and scowled, "And I don't plan on it, either."

"Come on, Hermione, don't you trust me?" Ron asked, adding a small whine to his voice as he did.

"Well, yes, but that doesn't change-"

"Then you've got to trust that I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

"I do, but I don't want-"

"Please, Hermione, I just want to show you something. You've taught and shown me so much, I just want to show you one thing. One thing, that's all, and if you want, afterwards I'll bring you straight back down," Ron smiled slightly to himself, knowing that for once, he had her beat.

Hermione glared at him for a long moment, her mind rushing to try to find any excuse for why she couldn't get on the broomstick with him, but finally, unable to think of one, she sighed, "Alright, Ronald. I'll do it, _but_," she held up an admonishing finger, "You have to take me right back down after you've shown me, alright? Promise me."

Ron nodded, "As soon as you say the word, we'll be back on solid ground before you know it."

She uncrossed her arms and moved cautiously to the broom, "Where do you want me to sit?"

Ron swung his leg over the broomstick, towards the back of it, "You'll have to sit in front of me so I can have best control of it."

"Alright," she replied, her voice wary, as she did as she was told. She had gotten on a broomstick before, but, like Ron had pointed out, it had never been without a dire situation forcing the matter. Today, there was nothing to occupy her mind with; no danger to be avoided, and all she had to rely on was her trust in Ron, not her own devices: frankly, that scared her more than she liked to admit.

Ron wrapped his arms around her, and grabbed the broomstick in front of her.

"Remember," he whispered in her ear, "As soon as you say the word, we'll be back on solid ground… but only if you really want to."

Hermione nodded stiffly, and clung to the broomstick for dear life as it began rising off of the ground.

"It's alright, Hermione," Ron said as they rose quickly high above the Burrow, "I might not be as good of a flyer as Harry, but I won't let you fall.

Though she didn't say so aloud, Hermione realized that the actual act of flying wasn't what was terrifying to her. It was the complete and utter trust that she had to put into whatever she was flying: whether it be a broomstick, threstal, or hippogriff. She couldn't rely upon her own knowledge, she had to trust in Ron completely. Hermione hadn't realized how difficult that would be until now.

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to forget about the wind buffeting her hair around her face.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Ron asked after a couple of minutes.

"Hmmm?" she asked, eyes still closed tightly.

Ron chuckled, "Hermione…"

"Yes?"

"Hermione, you can open your eyes now. This is what I wanted to show you."

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. Hermione gasped.

Far, far below them, was the Burrow: the normally towering house was a mere speck from this perspective. Luscious green hills rolled out from them: leisurely waves of wildflowers and grass. Among the rolling hills, Hermione could see several small houses: one, much taller than the others, Hermione recognized as the Lovegoods' home- tall, odd, and rebuilt. Miles and miles away, the field ended in a forest of dense pine that rose up and up into tall and imposing mountains, whose peaks jutted into the clear blue sky like spears.

In all the times Hermione had ever flown, she had never stopped for even a moment to really _look_. It was beautiful.

"What d'you think, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Ron…" she whispered, quietly.

Suddenly his voice became very worried, "I'm sorry, Hermione, I thought… I'll take you down…"

"No!" Hermione shouted, gripping the broom and pulling it back up when it started to lower, "Ron, it's beautiful."

"Oh," she could hear the smile in his voice, "I-… I thought you'd like it. You're not afraid?"

"Terrified," she answered matter-of-factly before her voice softened, "But it's worth it. Ron… thank you, for showing me."

Ron gently leaned forward and chastely kissed her cheek, "Thank you for letting me. I've wanted to bring you up here for ages. It's where I always came when I wanted to think, to get away from my brothers, or my mum nagging me about something. When I'm flying, up high above all of that, it's like there's no one else in the world," he chuckled, "Except you, now."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and he must have felt it, because he asked then, "Are you cold? It's pretty windy up here, do you want to go down?"

She shook her head, "No, not just yet. Let's just… sit here… for a bit. If that's alright."

"That's perfect," he said, then after a pause he continued with humor in his voice, "I suppose I couldn't convince you to do some air acrobatics with me? The flips are more fun than they look, you know."

"Not on your life," she replied.

He laughed, "Don't knock me for trying."

"I'll _knock_ you right off this broom, Mr. Weasley," she countered, pushing back against him playfully.

"Like to see you try, Granger," he replied as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

After that, they were silent. The broom drifted gently in the wind as they hovered there, and Hermione understood what Ron had said before: it was like they were the only two people in the world. There was no danger, no expectations, no problems at all. They just… _were_. Hermione dared to wish that it wouldn't end.

But it did end. It had to, and they both knew that. Slowly, hesitantly, Ron lowered the broom back to the ground.

As soon as they touched the earth, reality slammed into them, _hard._

Upon seeing their return, Ginny ran out from the Burrow holding what seemed to be a newspaper in her hands, with Harry close on her heels. She seemed worried, but his face was an unmistakable mask of fury.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, jogging over to meet them.

"Escaped," Harry bit out. His glasses flashed.

Hermione looked to Ginny hopefully for clarification, "There's been a break," Ginny told her, "A prison break, out of Askaban.

Reading the paper she had over her shoulder, Ron's face paled.

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"Who else?" Ron asked through gritted teeth, "That McFarlin fellow, and about ten others who were there to try to take you from the werewolves."

"O-oh," Hermione stuttered, "well, we're all safe while we're within the reaches of the protective spells here… and if worse comes to worse, we've fought them once… we can do it again."

"That isn't the worst of it," Harry spat out, "Someone on the inside helped them escape… a former Auror, Cain Hemler."

Ginny handed the newspaper to Hermione, on the front page there was a picture of a wall in Azkaban. Slowly, bright red, spelled letters started to appear until they spelled out an ominous message:

Potter, Weasley, and Granger.

We're coming for you.

Run.

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Author's note: Yes, it's been quite a while. Turns out that it's not so easy to write when you have a full time job, and you're a full time student.

Be sure to check out my new story The Butterfly Effect, a gruesome story about what I think would have really happened if Ron and Hermione hadn't kissed. Some Ron and Hermione romance, but don't be expecting the type of story you normally get under those circumstances, it is very dark.

Reviews are very appreciated.

Thank you.


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